The Odd Duck's Quest
by Sempre libera
Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and matchmaking attempts run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and lessener Austenian heroines. Chapter 27 up!
1. Chapter 1 Mary's reflection

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other less known Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with other novels from Jane Austen.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

* * *

The nineteen-year old young woman was darkly staring at her reflection in the mirror. Were she to have a (bored, as usual) audience, she would have publicly despised the use of such frivolous objects and proclaimed her unadulterated faith in inner beauty. Alas, the mask she bore and in which she had wanted to believe herself did not abuse her any more. She had wanted to hide behind a respected bluestocking, and even that attempt had failed miserably.

The cruel sniggers, the poisoned remarks during her pathetic performance at the Bingley's, she had been painfully aware of them long before her father decided to intervene and closed the piano. But she had persisted, seemingly oblivious to the shame, because she just wanted to be heard. She loved music, but how could she have improved without any proper teaching? Weeks of hard-working practice had vanished under the sarcasm of both the neighbours and her most respected relatives, namely her father and Lizzy, sweet Jane being far too kind to even notice her humiliation. This scene had happened a year ago, but still displayed in her mind. And Mary, despite her pallor, felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at the memory.

Tonight, the mirror did not lie. It showed her a scared young woman, sad and too pale for most people's liking. Long black hair, stormy grey eyes, often uncertain, with a flicker of despair in them. Fine features, but they lacked something all of her sisters did possess. She was not as pretty as them, not as vivacious, not as endearing…She was dull and she knew it. This was one of the reasons why she was immune to the charms of dancing, because even this activity did not get her out of the permanent state of a wallflower. Sometimes, she hoped that she was not as ugly as her mother's comments suggested. She had often overheard her (and other people, for that matter. She had discovered that she surpassed her sisters in this enlightening activity, due to her reluctance to giggle, and to the involuntary gift of not being noticed) saying to Lady Lucas:

" _With my two eldest so well established, I am sure that Kitty will soon receive valuable proposals. She is very pretty, and so much alike my dear Lydia- and with her connections, now that she is related to Mrs Bingley and Mrs Darcy! Were they more eligible bachelors in the neighbourhood, she would have been married last year too! But I have no worry, since Mrs Darcy has offered to take Kitty with her to London! So many young men, very rich and single, in prospect of a wife! But a mother cannot be quite light-heartened when all her daughters leave her, no matter how happy she is for them to find themselves well settled. Yes, Mary will stay with me to take care of my health, but I would prefer her to find a suitable husband. And to speak quite frankly, I must bear her with as much patience as I can muster, for this child has no respect for my poor nerves. I am afraid that I must get used to this idea, however. It is obvious that this one will end up as an old maid. No, Mrs Darcy did not offer to take Mary with her too- I cannot blame her, though. She has many obligations, without having to make the entire education of Mary- Kitty knows how to dance and what is fashionable. Mary, even if it costs me much to say so, is a lost cause. She will stay with us till Mr Bennet dies and Mr Collins, your son-in-law, takes possession of Longbourn. Then her sisters will at least show some charity and take her with them. She could help with the education of their children, I suppose, with all these books and sermons which she reads constantly. Why isn't she interested in fashion like her sisters, why does she always dress up like our cook…? Ah, my poor nerves! "_.

At this point Mary had stopped her listening. She had registered several facts which disturbed her greatly.

First, Lizzy, her admired sister, who enjoyed reading (like herself) and still never was a bore (unlike herself) had preferred to invite Kitty, silly, giggling, used-to-follow-Lydia's footsteps and malleable Kitty instead of her.

Then, she would remain the last Bennet at home during the next months and most likely, till her death as a confirmed spinster, with her mother, her criticisms and above all, her Nerves. (She did not count her father, who would seek and find asylum in his study whenever the need arose; but alas, the library would be invaded by her mother whenever she needed a victim.) The thought of being prisoner at home, alone with her mother, frightened her. After all, it was surely not a coincidence if both her elder sisters, once married, had left the neighbourhood of Longbourn. If she could give the benefit of the doubt to Lizzy- Pemberley, Derbyshire, had belonged to her husband from the very beginning-, Jane's departure of Netherfield was highly suspect.

Of course, she did love her parents. But she would love her mother far better from afar.

Was she as unattractive as her mother pretended? She stole a glance at the mirror, again. She did hope that this was not a definitive statement. She found solace in thinking that she was only plain, the lame duck among four beautiful swans. She was the odd one, but was she condemned by her difference? Was she doomed to loneliness?

Because she had felt alone over the first nineteen years of her life, and she did not want to live with this feeling of emptiness till her death. She wished she could live happy and die happy, too. Not bitter and misunderstood, not a burden to her family. She shuddered at the thought of Charlotte Lucas, now Charlotte Collins. There was a time when she would have gladly accepted Mr Collins' proposal. For sure he was not her knight in shining armour, but the young girl she was then had been attracted to him. He seemed to enjoy reading and she understood his awkwardness in society. Had he proposed to her, she would have accepted, not in order to secure a husband, but out of fondness. Now her fondness had been replaced with pity. Her father and Lizzy had exchanged enough snide remarks over Mr Collins' letters for her to understand how ridicule the poor man acted. Still, she was hurt to see how prompt the best of people could be to laugh at the expenses of others. Her serious readings promoted charity. But how could she understand charity and avoid blindness? Torn between the way her relatives and neighbours acted, and the wise pieces of advice given by Fordyce's Sermons, she did not know which path to follow, and this made her relations with others unnatural. Awkward moments and silent suffering ensued, invariably.

Mary glanced a last time at the mirror, her grey eyes suddenly resolved. She would not remain at Longbourn. She would try and travel to places where she could make new acquaintances, meet people who would not judge her. A change of manners would be necessary. She would have to overcome her shyness, be less pedantic, perhaps even learn to dance…but this remained a remote possibility, because she had never been asked to before and it seemed to her too extraordinary to even happen to her, plain and boring Mary Bennet, even with some slight changes in her demeanour.

She did not believe in Cinderella tales. The sermons which she was used to reading were wise, even if she admitted to herself that she found them boring sometimes. So far, they had helped her to bear her situation. They had taught her that endeavours would bring their own rewards. However, Mary did not dare to dream of "a suitable husband". For years she had resigned herself to the fact that love was out of her reach. She just hoped that she would never experience loneliness again, and that she would find who she was in the process.

But she had to take her fate into her hands before. And something told her that it would not be an easy task to convince her family of letting her execute the project she had conceived. Jane and Lizzy were due for next Tuesday. She still had the whole week to rehearse her plan.

_**Author's Note:**_

_**First impressions as well as construed criticism are much needed and much more, appreciated. So please REVIEW!**_


	2. Chapter 2 Sisterly talk

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances ensue, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other less known Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with other novels from Jane Austen.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

* * *

" Jane, Elizabeth, may I have a talk with you? It will not take long, I promise."

Startled in the middle of an animate conversation with Kitty about the Rules To Follow At London And How To Behave When Mr Darcy Is Around, which was not the case, since he conveniently had to stay in London "on business", Elizabeth replied:

" Of course, Mary. But why don't you call me Lizzy? Despite my marrying to Mr Darcy, I am still your sister", she joked, trying to shock off the feeling of unease which she could not help whenever Mary acted so solemnly. Kitty, slightly put off by Mary's intervention, welcomed it nevertheless as a means of escaping from the headache caused by the endless list of Elizabeth's recommendations. Mrs Bennet, however, was decided not to lose even a few minutes of precious matter to gossip.

"Surely you can wait", Mrs Bennet cried disapprovingly. " Besides, what matters of importance could you possibly have to discuss with your sisters which do not require my presence?", she added in a disbelieving tone.

Three out of the four sisters could actually very well figure a few matters of importance that they could discuss without involving their mother, but wisely chose to remain silent about it.

Mary, used to ignore her mother's outbursts, replied calmly:

"You have been talking with Jane and Lizzy for the past four hours, Mama, and Father left us three hours ago, so that you could spend freely your motherly attentions all this time. I do not consider my request of a few minutes exceedingly unreasonable."

Before Mrs Bennet could express any complaint about the cheek and the ingratitude of her daughter, Jane rose of her seat:

"Will you excuse me, Mama, but I think that we have been sitting too long. I would like to walk a little, and perhaps Mary could accompany Lizzy and me, if she wants to."

Elizabeth rose too:

" Indeed, I would enjoy some fresh air. While we are outdoors, Mama, you could give Ellis some instructions for Kitty's luggage, since she shall leave with me tomorrow."

"So soon!" Mrs Bennet exclaimed, disappointed. She had already planned to show off Mrs Darcy at tomorrow's Assembly, especially to Mrs Long, whose nieces were still single.

"So soon!" Kitty repeated with a whole different expression. She looked as though she was going to burst into nervous giggles, Mary thought warily.

And she exited the room with her two elder sisters, leaving in her wake a younger sister and a mother still shocked by Lizzy's announcement.

"Well, Mary, why were you so intent on having a private conversation with us?" Lizzy asked curiously, turning her face towards her sister, but only catching a glimpse of long strands of straight black hair.

The three sisters were walking slowly, Lizzy right besides Jane, as usual, and Mary on Jane's left side.

Mary did not answer directly. Instead, she said:

"This journey to London is a real opportunity for Kitty."

Her voice was carefully neutral.

"I heard you mention that she would benefit from Mr Darcy's sister lessons?".

"Indeed she will", Elizabeth replied, puzzled by Mary's words. Jane did not say anything, but she observed how Mary folded her hands, then how they began to twitch ever so slightly as she spoke again:

"You said too that Miss Darcy learned drawing, foreign languages, and received excellent…music lessons?."

Lizzy heard the little pause and the slight tremor in Mary's voice at the words "music lessons". She blurted out in dawning realisation:

"Good Heavens, Mary! Are you jealous of Kitty because she will share Georgiana's piano lessons?." She could not help but laugh at the idea. She had met envious people before, people jealous of another's beauty or wealth, or even jealous of the attention they could not get (the name of a certain Caroline Bingley crossed her mind) , but Mary was certainly the one weird enough to be troubled over a few piano lessons.

Mary, irritated by Elizabeth's laugh, replied bitterly:

"Why would I envy Kitty, Elizabeth? Has she always dedicated all her days to music? Or should I consider that casual embroidery is a better requirement to be proposed proper tutoring in this field?."

"I am sorry if I have disappointed you, Mary. But I did not propose music lessons to Kitty. She may choose to take them, but she will have to attend balls nearly daily. This is why I did not offer you to come to London with me, since you have made your dislike for these sort of parties widely known in the past…", Elizabeth defended herself. But she felt a little remorseful. She had not supposed that Mary might be offended. In fact, she had assumed that it would be easier to introduce Kitty into society, Kitty, eager to please and to follow her elder's directions once Lydia was out of sight (and therefore out of mind) than Mary, loner and reluctant to delve into superficial activities. To be honest, the memory of Mary's display had played a role in her decision. The fateful night and its consequences were still fresh in her mind, and though she could make sure that there would be no gallant and adventurous officers for Kitty to shamefully flirt with in her circles, she could not rightfully prevent Mary from playing or, worse, singing (Elizabeth mentally cringed at the thought) in front of everyone when politely asked to. While in Pemberley, she did not know that Mary had shown less enthusiasm in her public performances than previously, but truth to be told, had she been aware of the fact that she would not have been more likely to tempt this surprising modesty. The knowledge that she had deterred Jane, who was to stay in London with her husband and sister-in-law too, from inviting Mary, arguing that their sister was not one to _socialise_, also bothered her.

Jane's voice broke Mary's and Lizzy's thoughts:

"Mary", she asked gently, "what do you want from us?."

Mary took a sharp intake of breath:

"I want to attend Miss Darcy's piano lessons."

Seeing the bemused expressions of her sisters, she added quickly:

"Lizzy, I do not ask you to chose me over Kitty. I do not want to intrude, but…I just want to listen to the Master's advice, you know that Miss Darcy will not even notice my presence. I could even bring myself not to ask any questions. Music is important to me, even if I fail to make you understand this." Mary stopped her walk, imitated by her sisters. She turned towards Jane and asked in a tone laced with embarrassment:

"Jane, it is terribly rude of me to ask you this, but…would you lodge me in London? I will not beg you to take me with you to the balls, and I will not impose myself upon you. I will go out only to attend the music lessons at Lizzy's home. Please, Jane. And Lizzy…This is the single favour I will ever ask from both of you. From my sisters", she whispered very lowly, but Jane heard it and took Mary's hands in hers, squeezing them affectionately:

"Mary, you will always be welcome in my house, and this under any circumstances. You do not have to ask for my permission. Of course you will come with me to London. If Charles were here, he will approve my decision."

_Dear, dear Jane!_ Mary thought instantly. She wondered how to react properly according to the circumstances, but after a few seconds of musing she remembered that she had once learned that one should behave with dignity and circumspection, so she let out a:

"Thank you, Jane. This is very kind of you.", which sounded very cold to her own ears, not expressing all the gratitude she felt.

Then she glanced expectantly at Elizabeth, trying to conceal her nervousness. Considering Jane's support to Mary's cause and moved by her younger sister's plea, Elizabeth gave in with a sigh:

" Well, it seems that Georgiana's piano lessons will not only enlighten my poor sister-in-law, but Kitty and you as well."

Elizabeth cut off her sister's thanks:

" It was not my intent to hurt your feelings, Mary. I assumed that you would not mind staying at Longbourn, and playing the piano at your leisure since none of us were here to trouble your practice."

_None of you? And what about Mama?_ Mary nearly choked, biting her lip to swallow this reply. She brieflyfelt revolted, before returning to her usual passive self._ One should never assume, Lizzy. Never assume. _This was one of the wise sentences which made her appear pedantic, so :

" You did not hurt me, Lizzy.", she assured instead. "One does not get hurt over such trivial matters."

The three sisters returned silently to the house, where Mrs Bennet was waiting for them impatiently.

"Are you satisfied with your talk with your sisters, Mary?" she asked exasperatedly. The sisters had been absent for nearly half an hour.

"Very much, Mama. Jane has kindly invited me to stay with her at London.", Mary answered modestly.

"London?" Mrs Bennet repeated dully.

Mary did not answer. She had already mentioned the city, but Jane supplied:

"Yes, I did invite Mary. We will stay two months, maybe three. It depends on the state of Charles' business."

But two interventions dampened Mary's spirits a little. First, Kitty exclaimed:

" I am sure to stay much longer. You told me that Mr Darcy's business compelled you to spend more than half a year in London, did not you Lizzy?".

"It is true that you will stay three months at least Kitty, but I still do not know whether you will be able to remain longer. You may be needed at home, or perhaps Mr Darcy's business will be taken care of sooner than expected." , Elizabeth replied prudently. _If Kitty did behave well, and especially if Mr Darcy reacted well to her presence, then Kitty would become a permanent guest at London or even at…_

"But if you must go back to Pemberley then, surely I could stay there for a while ?" Kitty asked hopefully.

…_Pemberley. That is, if she managed to refrain herself from asking blunt questions such as this one to one certain Mr Darcy. _Elizabeth sighed again_. Thanks Heaven, Mary would be Jane's burden. Dealing with Kitty alone was already a heavy responsibility in itself._

Mary was thinking that she had only two months (her pessimism did not let her hope three whole months) Longbourn-free. Then:

"Now, Jane, you must force her to attend as many balls as possible! Who knows, perhaps that she will find a husband after all!". Her mother's tone was doubtful, but Mary did not care because she too doubted that in two-months' time she would meet a gentleman who, though used to the beauties of London, would see in her the swan that all Longbourn boys had somehow failed to recognise. Still, Mary was happy due to the music lessons which she would take, the bookshops which she would visit while in London…and because the first stage of her plan had succeeded.

_**Author's Note:**_

_**First impressions as well as construed criticism are much needed and much more, appreciated. So please REVIEW!**_


	3. Chapter 3 On the way to the bookshop

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances ensue, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other less known Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with other novels from Jane Austen.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this pitiful attempt of a plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

She was in London. The night had fallen already and now she stood in her room, at Jane's quiet mansion. Charles Bingley had welcomed his wife's sister with his usual cordiality. She had eaten a quick supper with the couple (thankfully Miss Bingley was not due till the following day) before excusing herself. The journey had been comfortable, and Mary had spent it between revelling in the various landscapes she spotted (_so many shades of green_ _and still such a subtle harmony in these plains and forests,_ she had wondered)and closing her eyes to escape the nauseous feeling which possessed her afterwards. _I have never travelled before, perhaps someday I_ _will get accustomed to it like Jane_, she wished fervently. _Someday…_

Mary looked at her reflection in the mirror. _For someone who dismissed the importance of the_ _appearances, she did it a lot lately_, she mused, taking notice of her exhausted face. However, she was not in a dishevelled state. Keeping one's countenance, under any circumstances, was a motto of hers. She had labelled it "a step towards the path of respectability" when she had understood how harshly her younger sister were judged by most of their neighbours.

Tomorrow morning she would visit London with Jane, who had promised her that she would take her to the most famous bookshops. Her music lessons were to begin the afternoon. All these thoughts vanished as she succumbed to a peaceful slumber, filled with bookshelves and pianofortes.

As usual, Mary woke up at the crack of dawn. She dressed carefully in her plain brown dress, without any ribbons or fantasies, unlike Kitty's. But none button lacked, and there was no crinkle to be seen, since she took great care of her clothes. _Negligence is a sign of idleness, _she recalled as the sky gradually cleared.

After an uneventful breakfast, she found herself walking the streets of London with Jane. Her sister looked charming as always in a simple yet elegant blue dress which Mary preferred to the extravagant toilettes of the sophisticated women whose paths crossed theirs.

_Honestly, who in their right mind would dress like this for a walk? No wonder that these women are parading so flagrantly, they can not walk faster with all the vain ornaments which they carry on themselves. And they probably wear several layers of fabric too. How nonsensical of them!_

A jovial-looking grey-haired woman stopped to greet them:

"Upon my word, if it isn't Mrs Bingley!."

_What a strange greeting indeed_, Mary could not help but notice the familiarity of the woman. Yet it seemed to her that this was a kind of good-spirited familiarity with no ulterior motives. She felt unsettled by the woman's obvious lack of etiquette, even though she confusedly discerned in her much goodwill directed towards no one in particular, which meant that it applied to everyone.

"How do you do, Mrs Jennings?" Jane asked politely in reply.

"I have never felt better in my whole life!" Mrs Jennings laughed, then caught the sight of Mary who had remained silent. "And who is this young lady?"

"This is my sister, Mary Bennet."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs Jennings," Mary said quietly.

"Will you stay long in London, Mrs Jennings?" Jane inquired.

"No, I shall leave by tomorrow to visit relatives and some friends of mine in the Devonshire. I will return next month for my daughter's musicale- Mrs Palmer's musicale. I shall see you there. "

"We have not received any invitation yet" Jane said.

"My daughter has not sent the cards yet, but I will make sure that she does not forget your sister too." Mrs Jennings then turned towards Mary: "London will brighten you, my dear, and I daresay that this is the best place for a young lady to find a beau" she smiled comfortingly to a stunned Mary Bennet before leaving a harassed-looking Jane who had seen herself half-promise that she would attend the Palmer's soirée.

"Here is a bookshop, Mary."

She entered it with Jane, her grey eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of the numerous books. Meryton's bookshop could not compare with the variety of books displayed. The scent of freshly cut paper briefly overwhelmed her and she took several steps towards the shelves, losing herself in the titles of the books, while Jane was left to her own devices.

A curious shrill forced her to emerge from her daydreaming. Mary glared at the back of the woman whose unusually high-pitched voice echoed so disturbingly, then tried to resume her reading. This attempt was unsuccessful, though, as she could not escape the woman's complaint:

"So I took this poor girl under my protection. I made sure that she would be well treated, among the finest circles, despite her position as a governess. Ay, I wrote letters on letters to my friends Mrs Suckling and Mrs Bragge, and as this poor Jane seemed desperate to ever find a respectable family, I received a letter which told me that a most desirable situation was proposed to Jane, in the family of a cousin of Mrs Bragge! I was so satisfied with the result of my perseverance, much more for Jane's happiness than for me, although my friends often tell me that I am too modest to admit that I had deserved my share of success. I must say that without my acquaintances, Jane would not have found a better situation, but a most inferior instead. What shall forever disappoints me, not that I am displeased with the marriage of miss Fairfax, is the fact that she does not need the position anymore. Now another young woman fulfils it, and I am disappointed to see my efforts so easily forgotten, not that I blame miss Fairfax, of course. This Mr Churchill is very charming young man", she concluded.

Mary observed the woman thoughtfully while she exited the bookshop with her listener, rambling now on _"London, which she had preferred this year to Bath, but she had already made new acquaintances, among which several people who needed her assistance, and she could not refuse to dedicate herself to their problems, being the generous and resourceful woman her friends claimed her to be, could she?_._"_ She looked about thirty, and she had piercing eyes with a pointed nose.

_She is loud and somewhat vulgar. But she may be very efficient when resolved to succeeding_ _in her task_, Mary decided, as Jane came to remind her that they had spent the entire hour in the bookshop.

"Excuse me, Jane. Who was this woman who was speaking so loudly…?."

"You must be talking of Mrs Elton. Lizzy told me about her. She has met her last week, I believe, but I do not know her personally. Mary, I have a few purchases of my own to make now."

"I will pay this book and follow you, Jane."

Mary purchased the copy of her favourite play by Shakespeare, glad to possess her own, which she could keep with her constantly, without having to borrow it from her father's library. It was hers now, even if she had purchased it with the money from her father's allowance. As she was paying, she repeated to herself the name of Mrs Elton, with the distinct feeling that she should remember it for a further purpose.

_**Author's Note: **_

_**- your two pence about this chapter and its "guest stars"? Review!**_

_**- I have a question for you: do you want me to write a short" coming soon" at the end of each chapter, to give you some clues about what awaits you next? The decision is up to you!**_


	4. Chapter 4 Meeting Georgiana

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other less known Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with other novels from Jane Austen.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

* * *

The same night Mary came to London, Georgiana Darcy was anxiously expecting her sister-in-law and one of her younger sisters. Her nervousness was mostly due to the latest. Despite Elizabeth's encouragement, Georgiana still felt uneasy with strangers. Besides, Fitzwilliam's earlier recommendations had puzzled her. She remembered how her brother had advised her to behave with their guest:

"_Miss Catherine Bennet is Elizabeth's sister and as such, you shall always treat her with the_ _utmost respect"_, he had insisted several times, earning himself a confused glance from Georgiana. Had she ever acted otherwise towards anybody? _"She will often be with you, and you may therefore be tempted to_ _befriend her. So wishes Elizabeth…and so do I _", he had added with an afterthought. _"_ _However, you may not be quite accustomed to her… manners "_, he had enunciated carefully." _She possesses a great deal of assurance, but I would rather you not to imitate her or even ask her for some advice. You know that you may confide in me, or turn to Elizabeth whenever you need assistance on serious matters. Miss Catherine Bennet may be one year older than you, Georgiana, but at eighteen years I daresay that she has very little experience of society, and is more likely to commit errors of judgement than her sister."_, looking at Georgiana with gravity, _"Still, you shall keep your courtesy even if you are shocked by her words. I trust you on this." _And thus the little conference had ended. Had Georgiana been bold enough to question her brother's judgement, she would have thought that he had tried to convince himself, more than her, of the necessity of following these rules.

Eventually, Georgiana found herself standing with her older brother to welcome Elizabeth and her guest, who turned out to be a young girl with wild chestnut ringlets which seemed to bounce at every step she took, and lively brown eyes. A little curtsy was awkwardly made by Elizabeth's sister, who did not utter a single word to Fitzwilliam's greetings. Georgiana watched with relief as Elizabeth came to her sister's rescue, sympathising with the girl who seemed intimated by her brother's stern looks. This was partially true to explain Kitty's state: not only she vividly remembered Mr Darcy's haughty countenance from the previous year and feared to meet his disapprobation, but also Lizzy's lectures hindered her usual carefree disposition.

"And, Kitty, this is Georgiana. You shall share her lessons."

"I am pleased to meet you, miss Bennet.", Georgiana said with timidity.

Seeing Georgiana's shyness, Kitty recovered at once:

"Please, there is no need to be so ceremonious. Everybody calls me Kitty." she exclaimed brightly.

Georgiana could not resist to such a generous offer:

"Well, since we are sisters now, I will, but you shall call me Georgiana in return.", she answered slyly.

Much to her surprise, a peal of laughter rang out, and Kitty said teasingly:

"But this was my intent!".

Kitty's natural temperament was back, all good resolutions broken by the seriousness of Georgianna, much less frightening than her brother, whom she had momentarily forgotten. Elizabeth intervened again, arguing of the exhaustion caused by the journey to show her room to her sister. As both sisters left, and Fitzwilliam went to his study, Georgiana wondered whether _this _was what her brother had wanted to warn her about, and whether she should feel scared or excited by the strange appeal she found in Kitty's spontaneous manners.

* * *

The dinner was rather uneventful. Kitty, duly lectured by her sister and considering the threat of being sent back to Longbourn, was silent during the whole meal, until Elizabeth tried to lighten the mood: 

"Well, I have some good news for you, Kitty, and I daresay that Georgiana will be equally pleased to learn that we are invited to Lady Markinson's ball, which will be hold next Thursday."

Georgiana smiled while Kitty gasped, raising her hands to clap them in delight but, remembering Mr Darcy's presence on time, she dropped them quickly.

"Meanwhile, Kitty, we will find you a new gown and we will work on the etiquette. This kind of event is very formal. "

Kitty acquiesced rather solemnly, her expression suddenly serious. This was to be her first ball in London!

"Unless you wish to stay with Georgiana tomorrow, we will go to town and order your dress, for it must be ready on a short notice."

Kitty had no objection to this.

"Georgiana, my sister Mary has been invited by Jane, but she has expressed the wish to attend your music lessons during her stay in London. Do you mind if she does?" Elizabeth then asked her sister-in-law, while glancing at her husband. Georgiana did the same, and interpreting Mr Darcy's nod as a sign of his consent, she answered that she would be charmed to meet another sister of Elizabeth.

"Does she play as well as you do, Lizzy?" she added innocently.

"She certainly practices more than I." was Elizabeth's non-committal answer.

"Does she sing as well? I would love to practice duets."

"I daresay that Mary plays better than she sings", Elizabeth tried to be honest.

Kitty nearly choked with her glass of water and erupted into a fit of not-so-discreet coughs, whereas Mr Darcy's eyebrow rose suspiciously.

"Oh, we should play duets together then" was all Georgiana could say.

The evening ended then as Kitty and Georgiana made their way to their bedrooms, Kitty dreaming of a new gown and Georgiana wondering sleepily how the remaining miss Bennet was like.

* * *

It was the beautiful pianoforte which first drew Mary's attention as she entered the deserted room, or so she thought. She did not hear Georgiana, warned of miss Bennet's presence, coming behind her. 

Georgiana did not dare to trouble miss Bennet, who was looking longingly in the direction of the pianoforte, and took advantage of Mary's distraction to examine her carefully. She was astonished to say the least, seeing no similitude at all between Mary and her sisters. Mary did not have Jane's blond hair and fair complexion. Indeed the contrast between her black hair and her pallor was very striking to Georgiana's eyes. Continuing her inspection, Georgiana still could not compare Lizzy's and Kitty's expressive features to Mary's impassive ones. She had observed that Lizzy and Kitty shared the same constant gaiety, even if her sister-in-law's merriment was more subdued than her younger sister's. Mary's quiet grey eyes were …unreadable. Georgiana could only detect a tinge of sadness in them, but this was so light that she was unsure of its reality . Suddenly, sensing Georgiana's stare, Mary turned and her eyes bore directly into Georgiana's dark ones. Both girls, startled, did not know what to say. Georgiana's cheeks flushed with embarrassment while Mary felt ashamed for having been surprised in _flagrante delicto _of undisguised admiration.

Mary was the first to regain her composure.

"You must be miss Darcy. My name is Mary Bennet."

Georgiana answered quietly that she was glad to meet Elizabeth's sister.

"I must thank you, miss Darcy, for letting me share your lessons. I love music but I never had the opportunity to learn it as thoroughly as I wished to."

Georgiana replied that she was not bothered at all by Mary's presence, on the contrary, and boldly proposed that miss Bennet called her Georgiana and not miss Darcy. Mary's immediate answer was:

"I shall decline this offer now, miss Darcy, for I do not deem it quite proper on such sort an acquaintance. Later, perhaps, I could use this permission."

Georgiana blushed again. This was another difference between Kitty and her sister. She hoped that she had not offended miss Bennet. The quiet tone of her voice did not reveal anything about her feelings.

Seeing Georgiana's worried look made Mary regret her words, but she was not used to such familiarity with strangers…_But she was used to distancing herself from everyone, her family_ _included_, she realised with a start. In an attempt to reassure Georgiana, she said abruptly:

"You have the most beautiful pianoforte I have ever seen."

Georgiana thanked her, adding:

"Mr Peterson shall come soon. He is an excellent teacher, but he may be very demanding sometimes ."

Mary nodded. After a few minutes of silence, a stern-looking white-haired man with a thin, narrow face crinkled with wrinkles, entered the room. Georgiana greeted him and explained him that miss Bennet was to attend their next lessons. Then Georgiana proposed Mary to play first, but she refused, declaring that she would listen to Mr Peterson's advice beforehand.

Georgiana began her lesson. Mary decided that she played very well, and envied both her playing and her looks. Georgiana had blond hair with some curls of a darker shade, features which reminded Mary a great deal of Mr Darcy, but there were far more softened, which gave her a wholly different expression. Mary did not see any pride in miss Darcy, but strangely enough, the same kind of uncertainty Mary herself experienced. Only Georgiana had for her all the advantages of beauty, rank, and wealth- Mary had heard that miss Darcy's inheritance consisted of thirty thousands pounds. She broke off her thoughts by listening attentively to Mr Peterson's observations. Noticing his satisfaction with his pupil's performance, she wistfully wished that one day, somebody would watch her with the same tender pride. This was not to be, for such feelings could not be elicited from her mother unless Mary found herself wedded, an event which was unlikely to happen, whereas her father reserved his knowing smiles for Lizzy's wit and Jane's gentleness.

"Now, miss Bennet, we shall hear you play.", Mr Peterson gestured towards the pianoforte.

Mary sat at the instrument, her back stiff. Mr Peterson let her choose a piece which she had repeated many times before. Conscientiously, Mary began to play, immersing herself in the deep melancholy of the sonata, her slender fingers moving desperately, trying to convey the confusion which poured in her very soul. Ten minutes later, she finished, relieved that she had made it without a single mistake. She had strictly followed the partition and as usual, she had been holding her breath during her whole playing. She waited for the old man's judgement:

"The piece was poorly executed. This performance was very lame indeed", Mr Peterson commented with the most perfect indifference, before bowing to Georgiana and the young woman whose talents he had just scorned, signalling the end of the lesson .

Georgiana winced at her master's harsh words. Mary's face did not betray her feelings, but her hands, folded in her lap, curled into fists. The cold voice stung. It was like a sentence, implacable. _It **was **a sentence,_ Mary understood_. She would never excel in anything, even in what she lived for._

Georgian could not bring herself to say comforting words.

"Miss Bennet…" she trailed.

"Shall we meet again on Monday for our next lesson together, miss Darcy?" Mary asked calmly.

"Of …of course, miss Bennet", Georgiana stuttered. "If you still want to."

Mary's slightly shaking hands tied the ribbon of her hat.

"Only through perseverance does a man reach his goal." she whispered.

However, her patience was tested as she had to endure her sisters' return from the shop, which delayed her departure, and while Kitty launched herself into a detailed description of the peach-coloured gown she would wear for the ball, she spent the following hour to successfully avoid Elizabeth's observant gaze and Georgiana's compassionate one. Eventually she was able to come back to the Bingley's, and locked herself in her room, nearly reduced to tears by this first lesson so expected.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_**-** Poor Mary! Any reaction to this? You know what you have to do..._

_**-**Thanks to all the sympathetic souls who have reviewed so far. You make my day!_

**_Coming soon:_** _More lessons for Mary_, _Kitty's first ball in London, vexing gossip, and new characters!_


	5. Chapter 5 A matter of pride

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other less known Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with other novels from Jane Austen.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

* * *

The following days at the Bingley's flew by rather smoothly for Mary. Miss Bingley's presence was altogether easy to sustain, for the lady ignored the dowdy girl, and as there was no gentleman in the immediate vicinity whom Miss Bingley could impress with the display of her accomplishments, Mary could have the single pianoforte of the Bingley's household to herself. And she played two whole days, taking nearly no pause at all. It was enough that her musical talents were despised by her family and neighbours, she could always wallow in the self-pity of the misunderstood artist then. But that Mr Peterson, a man who _knew_ true music, should talk so disdainfully of her! Her vanity had often been wounded before, but no one had so openly lambasted what really mattered to her, namely music, along with books. On Monday her fingers were sore, aching from the exercise which she had subjected them to. 

If Mr Peterson was surprised to see her, he did not give it away. However, towards the end of the lesson, he motioned for her to play the sonata Georgiana had rehearsed and undertook the task of correcting her.

"No, no", he repeated right after Mary had begun the first movement. "You shall put more confidence in _this_- your fingers must _attack_ these notes. _Not_ like _that_! More swiftly, your playing is still too languid!."

And so till the end of the lesson. Mary, silent, lips thinned, tried to comply with Mr Peterson's directions. There she gave the word humility an entirely different meaning. She understood how hard it was to be _truly_ humble. If she was indifferent to her looks, she took pride in her knowledge. Of course, she had been breathing through words and notes for longer than she could remember, but these feelings of sheer, unadulterated joy and freedom had long been more and more scarce. She had relinquished the delights of reading or playing for herself a few years ago, when these activities had become a part of her act. Novels and comedies had been dismissed as fantasies in which she should not indulge herself- sermons and philosophy had replaced them. One of Mary's fondest ambition was to impress her erudite father with her intellect and discernment, hence her stoical behaviour. It did help that she had always been reserved, even though there had been a wilder Mary once, with continuous flows of dreams and reflections. She had sensed the danger of the youthful impetuosity of her mind, and although she had never acted with the foolishness of her younger sisters, she had willingly chosen to mould her spirit into this of a sensible woman, devoid of passion or any mark of excess. Excess did not lead to happiness, but to reprobation, and Mary wanted to be accepted. As she could not set the terms, she was aware that she had to make sacrifices, even if she still could not entirely force her nature- her reluctance to do tittle-tattle was as strong as her dislike of balls. Being pretty, remaining demure yet coquettish each time a gentleman was in sight, avoiding serious talks which were considered by many as too unladylike and pretentious, this was what was expected of women. This was what society, neighbours, her mother also expected her to be. Mary did not make the rules, but she had believed that somehow, she could avoid rejection without betraying herself too much. Things had not worked quite well, though, and now Mary had found another reason to promote moderation. But this time it was to gain acceptance from herself and not from the others. Acceptance as in resignation to a cloudy fate which she could not change, could she?

The same went for music. As a child, she had spent innumerable hours discovering new melodies on the old yet so dear pianoforte. She had not cared that the wood had been worn and that her sisters had been thoroughly enjoying the sunshine outdoors or their walks with their mother to Meryton where they had bought new ribbons or bonnets. Hesitantly, she had been deciphering the sheets of music, memorising tunes which had filled her sleep and her days. However, were she to play for an audience, and the pleasure became painful. Everything appeared fake, and the strangest was that she felt _she _was the worst lie of the assembly. This was wrong- music held a truth in itself, as did books. This was also why Mary still went to Mr Peterson; the man was austere and inflexible, but he could help her to reveal the truth of music. For Mary Bennet, truth equalled beauty. Truth **_was_** Beauty. And it was torture to feel its presence without ever reaching it.

* * *

Once Kitty and Georgiana were duly introduced to their hostess, Elizabeth's eyes went to Mr Darcy, who was watching intently his sister, standing a few meters away by Kitty's side. She whispered teasingly in his ear: 

"My dear Mr Darcy, I feel obliged to warn you that you look like a hawk."

"Do I?" her husband replied, still casting intimidating glances in the direction of the gentlemen who were too close to his sister.

"You cannot help the fact that Georgiana will soon blossom into an attractive woman. If you intend to drive away every potential suitor for your sister, then keep looking at her this way."

"Believe me, Elizabeth: a whole cohort of relatives shall not deter the man who sincerely loves from wooing the object of his affection.", Darcy replied. Elizabeth blushed, thinking of what she might have missed if it were not for her husband's determination. She dearly valued the prize of his tenderness, and she knew that his concern for his sister was well-intentioned:

"I am glad it did not stop **_you_**."

She smiled as a young man who was approaching Georgiana and Kitty hastily retreated under Darcy's glare.

The unfolding scene went not unnoticed by a group of a few young women, whose elegance attracted irresistibly Kitty's attention. However, the glimpses of conversation she caught did little to keep her in these good dispositions:

"Look how Mr Darcy has scared away Mr Richards! No man will dare to speak to his sister in his presence…"

"Miss Darcy is a delightful _child_, it is perfectly understandable that he tries to protect her from undesirable suitors. Mr Richards is only worth three thousands a year."

"Poor Darcy! He would have been wiser to do so for himself! How this gold-digger managed to snare him, I shall never know…"

"Caroline Bingley was positively green when she was told about their engagement."

"She still is", interjected someone, and all chuckled.

"Poor thing", added another without any hint of compassion in her voice. She might as well have commented on the fine weather, and with much more conviction.

"Now this fortune huntress tries to do the same for her sister. The attempt is so obvious! Did you see this Bennet girl curtsy when she was introduced to Lady Markinson?"

"Precisely, Sophia: clumsy like a schoolgirl!"

"Anyway, you, dear Annabelle, have not to worry for your brother.", the woman who had been called Sophia said designing a tall, brooding young man who stood a little apart from the circle of young men they kept sneaking glances at.

"Lawrence has been much chased after since he inherited the title ", a beautiful young woman with shining blond hair admitted. "But I think that he is the making of a bachelor."

"Dear Annabelle, you cannot say such horrid things! Your brother is only twenty-two, he will eventually come to his senses!" another woman cried, deeply disappointed by this piece of information.

"As to the other gentlemen, I know for sure that they will see the provincial with no taste through her attire", someone interrupted.

"I give Lord Glowner too much credit to notice her."

"Pray, do not even mention Lord Glowner. Any cultured young man, like Mr Harrison or Mr Rickman, shall know better than to pay any attention to her."

For Kitty, this was the straw that broke the camel's backTaking Georgiana's arm despite her protestations, Kitty began to walk slowly towards the coveted gentlemen. At this occasion (the first of many), Georgiana discovered that a determined Kitty Bennet had an iron grip

_A provincial, indeed!_ Kitty mentally fulminated. _Insufferable women! I'll show them! _

"Tell me, Georgiana", she exclaimed loudly enough to be heard by the young men. "Do you think that some gentlemen will remember their duties and ask us to dance?" This said, she turned imploring brown eyes towards the aforementioned gentlemen whereas Georgiana, mortified, kept her eyes riveted to the floor.

Which man under thirty could be selfish enough to refuse to give satisfaction to a lady, especially when the lady is young and charming, and when the request has been so eloquently expressed?

The brooding gentleman excepted, none of them did.

A young blond-haired man took a step towards Kitty, bowed, and said with celerity:

"Please, Miss, do forgive our neglect. Let me introduce myself: I am John Harrison, and I humbly request the pleasure of dancing with you."

Kitty curtsied:

"My name is Catherine Bennet, and this is Georgiana Darcy. Mr Harrison, your request is gladly granted."

"Now, miss Bennet, Harrison is not the only gentleman present who shall fulfil his duty. I will therefore take upon myself to replace him, for poor Harrison is a terrible dancer.", a handsome dark-haired man drawled.

Mr Harrison laughed good-naturedly:

"I confess that I am a lame dancer, but this is very unkind of you to have me thus exposed to miss Bennet."

Kitty felt it was time for her to intervene and punish the handsome stranger's presumption:

"I am afraid, Sir, that Mr Harrison's claim was prior to yours.", she said cheekily. " But miss Darcy has no partner yet, and I can honestly say that you will be much pleased with the change."

There she departed to dance, closely followed by Mr Harrison, who cast an apologetic glance to his friend but could not conceal his pleasure of having been chosen over him, an occurrence remarkable enough. Kitty did not notice the confusion on the gentlemen's faces. Even the indifferent-looking young man blinked a few times, before saying in an amused tone to the rebuked gentleman:

"Upon my word, Alexander, what a sensible young lady! I wish there were more women like her to do Harrison's merits justice…and to overlook yours."

The Earl of Hampstead's words were not dignified with an answer. Instead, his target bowed to a speechless Georgiana and asked forcefully:

"Shall we dance, miss Darcy?"

Georgiana nodded and they left.

Kitty was having a very good time. She had found herself and Georgiana partners, and Mr Harrison was a very amiable man, even if he was not the best dancer she had met. Then she basked in her glory at the sight of the ladies who were so prone to gossip before. They were gaping at her, having overheard her conversation with the gentlemen and, Kitty assumed, having seen her invited by no less than two elegant men. What Kitty did not know, however, was that the ladies were shocked by the fact that this Bennet girl had just spurned Lord Glowner, twenty-five and worth eight thousands a year. A man who, along with the Earl of Hampstead and a few other gentlemen, belonged to the circle of the most eligible young men in town.

"Is it the first time that you visit London, miss Bennet?"

Kitty nodded enthusiastically:

"Yes, and I enjoy every second of it! London is such an exciting city!"

Mr Harrison acquiesced:

"I confess that I spend as much time as possible in London. There are always so many events which may happen in the course of the day. This is definitely not the kind of life one could expect by living in the country."

"Do you often visit the country ?"

"I have an uncle who resides in the country, but I do not see him more than twice in a year. Although I sometimes long for the calm it provides, I am easily influenced by my friends who want me to stay with them in town- and Lord Glowner cannot stand the country."

"Who is Lord Glowner?" Kitty inquired.

Mr Harrison looked surprised:

"Lord Alexander Glowner is the other gentleman you refused."

To his amazement, Kitty did not pale with horror, but burst out laughing instead:

"Well, I hope he will understand that not everyone shall give in to his demands! If you want to spend some time outside London, you need not his permission!"

"He possesses a natural authority which make it very difficult not to yield to him, even if some people think otherwise. I have been told that I do not have a will of my own", Mr Harrison added with a little smile.

"Who told you so?" Kitty asked.

"Another friend of mine, Lawrence- the Earl of Hampstead. He dislikes Lord Glowner, though I cannot understand why- Alexander always acts gentlemanly. But those two cannot stand each other."

Meanwhile, Georgiana and Lord Glowner were quietly dancing, exchanging a few banalities, Lord Glowner still not quite recovered from having seen his graciously bestowed favour so easily dismissed.

* * *

This evening, when they both went to their respective beds, Lord Glowner and Mary Bennet were already sensing the effects of slighted pride, but with different consequences. Lord Glowner, irritated, could not "forgive and forget" the incident, and made the resolution to get back at this impudent girl- "Catherine Bennet" a mysterious voice supplied to him- as soon as possible. He was Lord Glowner, after all. Nobody could reject him and get away with the offence. 

On the contrary, Mary was glowing with what might have been pride, still hearing Mr Peterson's comment on today's performance, for which she had trained very hard. But she had no regrets- she had already begun to reap the fruits of her efforts. A simple word, this was what had made her so gleeful, cheerful **_almost_**, for it would take something much stronger to achieve an expression of "perfect happiness" on her pale face. Still, she knew she would recall this moment as one of the happiest she had ever experienced- when Mr Peterson had begrudgingly admitted that her performance was "**tolerable**".

Have you ever wondered how a critique was able to **_qualify_** and then get away with this? Well, it is just a matter of pride…is it not?

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

**_- Thanks to all the reviewers! Next time - if you still review, of course - I'll reply not directly, but on my profile, so that anybody could have access to the information I could share with you._**

**_-To everyone who read this story, review? (puppy eyes)_**

_**Coming soon:** Mary acts quite OOC, new characters and old acquaintances appear again, along with...reckless acts?_


	6. Chapter 6 Without second thoughts

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other less known Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with other novels from Jane Austen.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

* * *

Mr Peterson was not a man easily swayed in his first impressions. Time confirmed rather than invalidated them. However, Mary Bennet's case was different. The more they had lessons together, the more the young woman impressed him with her willingness to learn and the hardships of the training she went through. Even if he was reluctant to acknowledge it, Mr Peterson had been wrong. When he had first heard Miss Bennet play, he had been looking for a way to deter her from coming back to the next lesson, for it had been obvious then that she was not _gifted_, and Mr Peterson only worked with the best. 

The fact that she _had_ come back, despite his harshness, had made him reconsider his judgement.

And gradually, he had admired her stubbornness, well-hidden behind her apparent dullness, and above all, he understood her now, through her undenying love for music.

Miss Darcy was talented and enjoyed music, but as an agreeable pastime, a mere entertainment. For Miss Bennet as well as for himself, it was much more.

Nearly two weeks after their first lesson, he did something he seldom did with Miss Darcy, but this was to make Miss Bennet understand what he held for the first principles of playing. He sat at the pianoforte and told her: 

"You shall never forget, Miss Bennet, that a musician does not play to be praised. He must forget his ego because all things considered, he is not more important than the piano. Like it, he is just meant to be an instrument which will convey the composer's will. Playing well demands much humility, and an intuition which can only be acquired through intensive practice, for the good musician _interprets_ the partition. He does not blindly follow it, but uses every clue the composer has given to him to guess his intent and… his feelings too ", he added briefly.

He felt rather than saw Mary's eyes darken. They did whenever she was seriously considering a matter of importance to her. Then he began to play.

* * *

Mary listened fervently to Mr Peterson's playing. It was fluid and beautiful. The notes were flowing expertly, making her hark back to the sight of a river, continuous and still subtly changing. She closed her eyes and was able to retrace in her mind the way Mr Peterson's fingers did not even seem to actually touch the pianoforte, but lingered over it a fleeting moment before they moved to another position. Each silence was respected, and was given a particular meaning: expectant, heavy with melancholy, tense with a disturbing anxiety. 

This day, when she arrived at the Bingley's, Mary did not play right away as usual. Instead, she sat at the pianoforte and looked intently at it several minutes. Then, hesitantly, her throat constricted as it had never been before, she played.

"_We are only meant to be instruments"._

"_I shall forget my ego"._

"_I do not play to be praised"._

The sentences crossed her mind, and she suddenly played with a new surge of confidence..

* * *

The following day, she went to the Darcy's earlier, and found Georgiana with an array of sketches. Miss Darcy looked abashed, but Mary exclaimed, eyes on Elizabeth's portrait: 

"How accurate this drawing is, Miss Darcy! May I ask if it is yours?"

"I drew it, Miss Bennet", Georgiana smiled shyly.

Strangely enough, she felt more at ease with the elder Miss Bennet's formality than with Kitty's familiarity. Kitty always managed to find an excuse to avoid what she considered as "dull, boring lessons" and her time alone with Georgiana was filled with her own chatter on the events of last week's ball and suppositions on what the next would be like. Georgiana preferred sitting in a companionable silence with Miss Bennet, whose awkwardness equalled hers, but their scarce talks together were more significant that Kitty's incessant one-sided conversation.

"I am no connoisseur in drawings, but I daresay that this one is very beautiful".

"Thank you. I am glad that you think so, Miss Bennet. Drawing, to me", she added, "is like music to you."

Mary's eyes dawned with realisation. Georgiana confided in her a little more:

"The greatest difficulty is the expression of the eyes. I have been trying for days to capture Elizabeth's, but as my brother says, they are among the finest I have ever seen, and sometimes I despair to ever complete this portrait.

"They say that eyes are "windows into the soul". Do you agree, Miss Darcy?" Mary asked, always ready for a deep and philosophical controversy.

"I do not think it possible that eyes could lie. I remember that the day Mr Peterson first complimented you on your playing, your eyes seemed to lighten and I could see some specks of blue in them.", was Georgiana's simple answer.

"Blue? Are you sure, Miss Darcy?" Mary asked without second thoughts. She had looked at herself in the mirror more often than she was willing to admit, and her eyes had always remained this curious shade of grey.

"I am positive about it, Miss Bennet. A face may be deceitful, but eyes are not", Georgiana muttered to herself.

Mary looked away, sensing that Miss Darcy was considering unfortunate events, but her delicacy forbid her to pry into Georgiana's musings. Instead, she said a few words about the weather- not a very original topic, but its utility in such cases was unquestionable- and they waited for Mr Peterson, who concealed his satisfaction in Mary's progress. Her skills had drastically improved, and her technique was more assured. Technically, she indeed surpassed Georgiana, but her playing still lacked something that Mr Peterson could not give to her. He hoped that this deficiency would be remedied in the future. For now, _he_ was done with his own task.

* * *

After this lesson, Mary walked back to the Bingley's, reflecting on the changes she was experiencing. She felt that she had developed a new awareness of her surroundings and a confidence in her abilities (that is, in her musical ones) which made her different from what she had been a month ago. Of course, as usual, she wore a very large bonnet which she used as a shelter to protect her from the noisy streets and the strangers' glances, but today, though it put a shadow on her face, her eyes were not glassy with various meditations. Instead, they were taking in everything she came by. The majesty of the houses, a young girl who was walking across the street, the wild carriage which appeared out of nowhere- though such a thing was not possible- and was coming in her- their direction… 

Mary did not think twice: she lifted her skirts and ran as far as she could towards the young girl who was oblivious to the carriage, and pushed her to the opposite ground with all the strength she possessed. Her elbow ached as she collided with the street, while the preoccupied young man who drove kept on whipping his horses and disappeared the same way he had appeared in the first place.

Mechanically, Mary looked in dismay at her dirtied dress and coat, but these petty details vanished quickly as she asked worriedly to the girl:

"Are you well?".

The girl, who was younger than her by two or three years, opened bright hazel eyes. Mary registered her brown curls, the fine fabric of her modest dress, but was a little shocked when _she_ received a reassuring smile and this answer:

"I am fine, thank you for saving me. I had not seen this carriage. But", the girl looked concerned, "are _you_ well?" .

A crowd of by-passers was gathering. Mary dryly realised that she was certainly the palest of the two, and wondered at the prompt recovering of the girl.

"I am well."

"I shall go, I am needed elsewhere. But, I would like to know the name of my saviour."

"Mary", she uttered. "Mary Bennet".

"I will not forget it. Thank you again, Miss Bennet". She spontaneously kissed Mary's cheek and went away in haste. Mary followed her example and the little crowd disappeared, disappointed that no one was suffering from a serious injury.

Mary was the prey of confusing thoughts. The young girl could have been injured, or worse, by the carriage, and _she,_ Mary Bennet, had prevented this from happening, risking her life while doing so. _She_ had saved an other human being, and she had acted without weighing the pros and the cons, on an impulse.

This should have worried her, but she had never felt so daring before. Living a near-death experience was probably what she needed to convince her that her plan was worth trying.

Arriving at the Bingley's, she quickly went upstairs to change herself, careful that nobody should see her. However, she was not aware that she had shocked a dozing Miss Bingley.

_Had these Bennet girls no sense of decency?_ After the sight of Elizabeth's skirt dirtied by inches of mud, still fresh in her memory, she had just caught a glimpse of what looked suspiciously like Mary Bennet **covered in dust**.

_What would it be next time?_ Miss Bingley shuddered, her inner respect for property offended.

She could not imagine what Catherine Bennet could possibly invent to rival her sisters, but _who knew?_

* * *

Elizabeth was perplexed. Why were Lord Glowner and Mr Harrison visiting her? They seemed charming men, but she did not know them personally and had never been properly introduced to Lord Glowner. And now she was sitting with Georgiana and Kitty, discussing with the ever-amiable Mr Harrison, while his friend's piercing blue eyes remained fixed on Kitty's face. 

_Kitty! _Elizabeth realised with a start. _Is it possible…? _

Lord Glowner triumphed. Kitty's surprise was obvious, and he felt that he had taken the advantage on this too self-confident girl. Then, a young woman in a black coat and a dark dress entered. _She looks like a bat,_ Lord Glowner thought ironically. Little did he know, that this first impression would be soon confirmed.

Once the "bat" had been introduced as Mrs Darcy and Kitty's sister, much to Lord Glowner's confusion, the young woman said sternly:

"Do you happen to know, Elizabeth, who the owner of the carriage I saw in the street is?"

"The one with the white horse is mine", Mr Harrison supplied diligently, "and the one with the black horses is Lord Glowner's."

"You own the carriage with the black horses, Lord Glowner? Do you lend it, or does anyone else drive it?". Miss Bennet's voice was low.

Lord Glowner deliberately ignored the dangers lurking in the shadows of Miss Bennet's tone, and answered with irritation:

"I judge myself talented enough to drive my own carriage myself, and I do not lend such a prized possession.", he snapped.

"One is not the best judge of one's talent, nor the most impartial", Mary said sarcastically.

"Some tea, Milord?" Elizabeth asked, not understanding her sister's offensive manners.

The two belligerents did not appear to have heard her.

"And pray, who are you to be a better judge of character than I to such a tender age?" Lord Glowner replied.

"A better judge of character I do not pretend to be, but a better judge of your driving ability I certainly am" Mary answered quietly. "But I do share this honour with the young girl you nearly killed yesterday, without ever speaking of my humble person. It was a few streets from this very house that the accident almost happened."

Lord Glowner could not speak, remembering that he actually had driven very fast this day. He had come to Mrs Darcy's in order to impress Miss Kitty, and he had the feeling that having her sister nearly trampled under his horses was not the best way to achieve his goal.

"Is this true, Milord?" Elizabeth cried.

"I must admit that I drove with little prudence yesterday. Please accept my most sincere apologies, Miss Bennet."

Mary felt ashamed too, realising that she had appeared insolent to her sisters' and Miss Darcy's eyes.

"Pardon is the Christian way", she said, magnanimous.

Everyone sighed with relief and the conversation resumed. Mary kept silent, not trusting her polite manners any more, while Kitty looked at Lord Glowner with admiration. He drove fast, which was the proof of a strong temperament; and although he did not belong to the militia, he acted adventurously. And she had to say that he was handsome with his raven black hair and blue eyes. She promised to herself that she would accept him if he asked her to dance at the next ball.

* * *

Mary was at the Palmers' musicale with Jane and her husband. She did not ask to play, and spent the evening observing the guests. Then she spotted Mrs Elton and made her way to her while her sister and Mr Bingley were occupied elsewhere. What she was going to do was very reckless of her and went against all her principles, but she was due to Longbourn for the following week. This thought alone was a powerful incentive: 

"Excuse my boldness, but aren't you Mrs Elton?"

"Yes but I do not know you."

"I have heard so much about you and your achievements by an acquaintance of Mrs Suckling. She was singing your praises!".

Mrs Elton looked extremely flattered and excused Mary's familiarity.

"This is upon her advice that I take the liberty to ask your help for a friend of mine…"

If Mrs Elton had known Mary, she would have pointed out that such a person could not exist, for Mary had no friends at all. But her ignorance of Mary's life served Mary's interest.

They whispered confidentially during ten minutes, while everyone around them was wildly interested in the successive performers, and they separated after Mrs Elton had given her address in town to Mary with the solemn promise that she would do everything in her power to help this friend of hers.

* * *

A few days later, Mary white as a ghost, knocked at the door of a beautiful house in London, much more elegant than Mrs Elton's residence. There, her plan would be a success or a failure. Much depended on the next minutes.

* * *

During the evening, in her bedroom at the Bingley's, Mary spent the night at her desk writing a letter she would send in the morning, then lying in her bed without finding the sleep.

* * *

The following day, she went to the Darcy's. Elizabeth welcomed her: 

"Mary? I thought that you had no more lessons with Georgiana…not that your presence does bother me, of course. Do you want to see Georgiana before your departure, perhaps? But you still have five days ahead you", her sister went on.

"Elizabeth, I came to warn you that I would leave London earlier…and to tell my farewell to Georgiana and you."

Elizabeth frowned:

"Jane did not tell me that she changed her plans. Did Mama write to require your presence in Longbourn sooner?"

Mary sighed:

"You seem to believe, Elizabeth, that I have no choice in the matter."

"Well, since your lessons are ended, I take it that you will gladly find your old pianoforte to practice what Mr Peterson has taught you. I bet that you missed the library ", Elizabeth teased.

"Elizabeth, there is a slight misunderstanding. **I** am the one who will leave London this early, and I will not return to Longbourn."

"What do you mean? Where would you go?" Elizabeth blinked.

"I will work, Elizabeth."

"Work?" her sister said with the utmost disbelief.

" As a companion to Mrs Hester Traumayn. I shall leave with her the day after tomorrow."

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_-Did this came as a surprise? What did you think of this chapter's events? Your comments are welcomed, and replies will be on my profile! Thanks to all the reviewers!_

_-To June W: I put a little of Mr Peterson's playing here, as you requested. I hope you liked it…_

_**Coming soon:** heated argument, Mary's explanations get different reactions, and Mrs Traumayn appears! (more: the details of Mary's interview!) _


	7. Chapter 7 In the country of Northampton

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other less known Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with other novels from Jane Austen.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

* * *

Elizabeth Darcy was not a woman easily put off by unexpected news. But at this very instant, she could not bring herself to smile encouragingly and nod in approval. Instead, she all but screamed: 

"You are to work as a domestic!"

Mary, lips pinched, corrected coldly:

"As a companion. This is not quite the same."

Her sister's collected composure irritated Elizabeth. Indeed, the anger which rose within herself could rival the one she felt during her husband's unfortunate first proposal. She said in a deadly voice:

"Mary, have you lost your mind? Why did you accept such a position, and why did you even seek it in the first place?".

Mary went rigid. She knew that breaking the news to Elizabeth would be one of her most arduous tasks, but she had to admit that it was one thing to steel herself for the upcoming confrontation, and a wholly different thing to actually live it.

"I see nothing wrong in my decision, Elizabeth, and so should you."

"Nothing wrong!" Elizabeth cried. "To work! And to accept a situation so inferior to your rank! What possessed you to act so foolishly! You, who always pride yourself on your sense of property!".

"Elizabeth…Lizzy, I am just asking you to trust my judgement. What I did was indeed most sensible, and…" Mary implored.

"Sensible! You acted selfishly, without ever thinking of the consequences you would bring on us!" Elizabeth interrupted.

_It had been trying enough to make Darcy forget that the despicable Wickham was his brother-in-law, but she did not know how he would react when he would learn that one of his sister-in-law would work as a companion, and worse, what the Ton would think of this. Would she always have to be ashamed of her relatives? Kitty had been her constant preoccupation since Lydia's elopement, but nothing could have prepared her to Mary's truly appalling behaviour. But there remained a possibility to prevent the disaster from happening…_

" Mary", Elizabeth tried in a more gentle way, "why did you do this? Have you ever considered that when you are a companion, many people of our society will shun you…"

"Indeed, I am shuddering at this very thought! Still, I surmise that I will not perceive the difference with my current situation", Mary replied ironically.

"But this may compromise your chances of getting married!" Elizabeth attempted in despair.

"Which chances are you talking about?" Mary asked sadly, without expecting any answer.

Elizabeth brightened suddenly:

"Mary, you should not be so harsh with yourself! You shall not take this position because you believe that you will die a spinster anyway! You shall have no worry about it, I am convinced that we could find you an honourable man in due time! I shall ask Mr Darcy to…"

"No, Elizabeth!". Mary felt the bitterness overwhelming her. "Your charity is lost on me! I do not want to throw myself at any decent man in need of a wife and decided to overlook her lack of beauty and fortune because of her wealthy connections which would help him to make his way through the social ladder! I refuse to owe my husband to **_you_**, Elizabeth, as I refuse to sink so low as to accept an union which would be just a masquerade! I am a bit like you on this matter", she whispered but Elizabeth heard her nevertheless.

"Mary, no man would make such reasoning!" she said but her tone lacked the conviction. Elizabeth mentally cursed herself for being such a terrible liar, but she had never been one to successfully hide her emotions.

" However, you must realise that whereas Jane and I have married for love, such lucky matches are not within the reach of many people, but I know several women who did not enter the state of marriage as much in love with her husbands as we were, and still found their happiness. Indeed, you are sensible and therefore shall understand that love is not always required in successful unions, and could be replaced with esteem for the man you are to marry. Love may come later."

Elizabeth felt awfully uneasy. She was expressing ideas which were not hers, but she feared that Mary's hopes, whatever they may be, could only distress her sister more. After all, Mary had never seemed to be a romantic, and she was not one to trigger passion wherever she went. And Elizabeth had not really lied to her, for this matrimonial advice would not have been disparaged by the now happily-wedded Charlotte Collins.

"You say that I am sensible, Elizabeth. This is the reason why I prefer working as a companion, to earn a living and to save enough money for the time when I am labelled as an "old spinster" depending on my sisters' charity, despised at the worse and pitied at the best. I am proud enough to refuse both your pity and your charity, and I am not naive to believe that despite my looks and my poverty, I could find a man eager to marry me. You see, Elizabeth, I confess that I am foolish, foolish enough to reject the thought of marrying without love. Since I am not as beautiful and attractive as Jane and you, I will work to afford having the choice of being, in spite of all my knowledge, just a silly romantic girl who will die a spinster, but an independent one."

Mary's eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Mary, you are being ridiculous! This is nonsense, you will find a husband and live happily ever after! And I cannot let you work and risk your future…"

"Elizabeth, I have given my word to Mrs Traumayn and I am resolved to keep it.", Mary interrupted firmly.

"If you do not listen to me, you shall listen to our father! I will write to him immediately" Elizabeth rose, agitated.

"I did not come to obtain your blessing, and I have already seen to tell the news to Father, who had the right to be the first informed of my resolution." Mary cut in.

"Father will not give you the permission!"

"Do you really think so, Elizabeth? If I remember accurately, he remained rather indolent during and after the whole affair of our young sister's elopement? Why should he take extreme measures to make me come back to Longbourne since what I am doing is, unlike what Lydia did, nothing I should be ashamed of!" Mary said stiffly.

Elizabeth could find no reply. Mary rose and added calmly:

"I shall leave now. I am sorry that you do not understand my decision, and I hope that you shall hear reason in the future, for sisterly affection is a strength which should never stop uniting us."

Elizabeth answered instead:

"People will think that we have failed you somehow."

Mary's words betrayed her cold anger:

"Everything does not revolve around you, and as far as I am concerned, there will be no failure. I will make sure of that. And you shall be glad to hear that I will not put the Bennet name to shame, for where we are going, Mrs Traumayn will introduce me as a friend who travels with her, and not as a woman who is paid to do so."

Mary's face was livid as she added before leaving the room: "It seems that only my family will remember to look down on me for my being a companion."

Mary had already taken several steps away from Elizabeth's house when she heard Georgiana's voice calling her. Turning her head, she indeed saw Miss Darcy nearly running towards her. In her haste, she had forgotten to put a bonnet on her head and her long blond curls were flowing freely:

"Miss Bennet!" Georgiana managed to utter.

"Miss Darcy! Why are you following me? I gave your maid a letter to bid you farewell."

"I know", Miss Darcy said, blushing furiously. "But I overheard- it was by accident, I swear! I was in the stairs when you called on us, well, on Elizabeth- and I could not help but hear what you said. You are going to work as a companion…"

Mary kept her head down. What would Miss Darcy think of her?

"… and travel far away?" Georgiana asked.

"Well, not that far, but I do believe that it will take much time before we may see us again, Miss Darcy."

"Why?"

"I am sorry, Miss Darcy?"

Still blushing, Georgiana said tentatively:

"I do not pretend to understand your choice, but I did hope that we might still write to each other while you are away, and this until we meet again…if you wish so, of course."

Mary was moved to tears by this proposition. It was Miss Darcy's way of showing her support, and Mary knew that she had just been offered Georgiana's friendship:

"I would be much delighted to be your correspondent, Miss Darcy. Indeed I would, but I do not want you to get into trouble with my sister and your brother for writing to me."

"But why would William or Elizabeth be against it?"

Mary sighed, but whispered nevertheless:

"Miss Darcy, except for Jane, I do believe that I have just been…disowned by my family. Middle-class daughters whose father is a gentleman may either get married or die spinsters, but they are forbidden to work. Work for women is only acceptable for those of lower rank, and this no matter how much middle-class daughters need money to survive with dignity…"

Mary choked on the words. Miss Darcy's sympathetic gaze did not falter, and she said simply:

"We are sisters, and nothing others could tell me will change this. Give me your address, and I will write to you." Georgiana concluded determinedly.

Mary could do nothing but comply with her new friend's request, and they parted ways, both feeling that they had gained something unexpectedly valuable within the past month.

Meanwhile, a confused Elizabeth was remembering an other shocking announcement, when her former friend, then Charlotte Lucas, had told her about her engagement to Mr Collins. A little voice kept nagging at the back of her mind: _"not all of us can afford to be romantic"._ Was this sentence behind her sister's choice?

* * *

Mary recalled Jane's reaction at her news: she had not understood her sister's choice, but her first concerns had been for Mary's welfare. Jane had inquired about Mrs Traumayn, and she had made Mary promise, besides to write to her monthly, to tell her at once if Mrs Traumayn did mistreat her, in order that Mr Bingley could ride to fetch her within the week. 

And here she was, in the carriage which was taking her away from London.

Her eyes fell upon Mrs Traumayn, who was dozing lightly, and she remembered their first encounter at Mrs Traumayn's London house...

_Mary entered the room where Mrs Traumayn would receive her._

_The day before, an excited Mrs Elton had told her about this Mrs Traumayn, a widow who, after having spent the last few years abroad, was looking for a young woman to travel with her to the area where she was to settle for an undetermined amount of time. _

"_Your friend, Miss Walford, **must** go to this Mrs Traumayn at once! The poor lady cannot seem to find a suitable candidate but she has resolutely rejected my assistance so far! I hope Miss Walford should make her hear reason! Anyway, I have taken upon myself to recommend your friend to her, and she already expects to meet her tomorrow! How encouraging indeed!". _

_And thus, since the ever-active Mrs Elton had promised to Mrs Traumayn that her protégée would come to her the following day, the dreaded interview came sooner than expected for Marry. This was the downside of her collaboration with Mrs Elton, who was a woman of great energy but of little consideration for the feelings or the will of others. This did not prevent Mary from expressing her gratitude to her, for the woman had been a precious help._

_A calm, clear voice broke off her thoughts:_

"_Come in, Miss Walford. I was expecting you. Take a seat."_

_Mary did as she was instructed to. Then she dared looked at Mrs Traumayn. She saw a lady probably in her fifties or sixties, with grey hair carefully arranged, and attentive blue eyes. She radiated strength and natural authority._

"_So you are the Miss Walford Mrs Elton keeps telling me about…"_

_Mary shivered then quickly said:_

"_In truth I am not."_

_Mrs Traumayn blinked a little:_

"_This statement, you shall understand, confuses me. Are you not the woman this meddling Mrs Elton wants me to hire?"_

_Mary palled, anticipating Mrs Traumayn's reaction, but went on bravely:_

"_Well, yes and no, Mrs Traumayn. I do confess that I requested Mrs Elton's assistance under the false pretence of looking for a position for a friend of mine, but it was for my sake that I did it. Miss Walford, if she exists, is no friend of mine."_

_Clever blue eyes fell upon her:_

"_Why did you lie so blatantly"- Mary cringed at Mrs Traumayn's bluntness, but took hope in the fact that she had not been ushered out of her house yet- "to Mrs Elton? What reasons may account for your behaviour?"._

"_Personal motives, Mrs Traumayn, made me reluctant to tell my real name to Mrs Elton. My family was not aware of my action, and I intended to keep the whole thing a secret, unless I had to warn them of my departure. Mrs Elton is a woman whose energy and self- confidence I admire, but I had some doubts concerning her…well, her discretion" Mary gulped, waiting for Mrs Traumayn's reply._

"_Am I to infer that your family does not know about this interview?". Mrs Traumayn stated rather than asked._

"_Yes", Mary answered._

"_May I inquire about your real name?"_

"_My name is Mary Bennet."_

_For the first time, Mrs Traumayn showed some surprise:_

"_Bennet? Are you related to Mrs Bingley and Mrs Darcy?"_

"_They are my sisters", Mary admitted lowly._

_Silence fell. Mary was furiously tempted to fidget under Mrs Traumayn's scrutiny, but she managed to remain quiet despite her uncomfortable confessions._

_Then Mrs Traumayn rose out of her seat._

"_This is the end", Mary thought. "She is going to send me back"._

_But Mrs Traumayn gestured for her to remain seated, then asked in her most natural voice:_

"_I have spent many years abroad, but I know it is time for me to settle in England again. I have all planned: I enjoy living in London, but residing in the country most of the time is definitely more pleasant. I have already rented a house, for I do not own any in the country. Nevertheless, besides calm and fresh air, I need some company. I do not need a slave, Miss Bennet. I have seen too many women whose task is restricted to comply with their Mistress' whims or to flatter her. What I want is only a person with some sense ingrained in her, who may hold an interesting conversation, whose frankness I could appreciate, and who would not mind to read to me or to play the pianoforte for my scarce entertainment. Could you do that, Miss Bennet?"_

_Thus called, Mary hesitated a little, then answered slowly:_

"_I do not pretend that I am the most accomplished woman in London. I have recently made progress, I believe, in my playing the pianoforte, and I love reading. However, I feel it my duty to tell you that many people hold me for" she swallowed, "a bore. I would gladly make endeavours to be more interesting, but if you are looking for a woman who is interested in fashion or who makes it an habit to be very talkative, then I am not this person."_

_Mrs Traumayn smiled. Her smile lasted a few seconds, yet Mary did not see it as she was keeping her eyes downcast._

"_Miss Bennet, I am really impressed by your frankness. I am myself quite straightforward, I shall warn you of the fact. I tend to say what I do think, and this as far as good manners allow it. The more you talk, the more I am convinced that you are the right person. The other candidates were insipid and did not speak their mind, which was very wise but not honest since they would spend the following months, and who knows? the following years with me. My offer still stands, Miss Bennet. I shall leave in four days, so you must make your mind now. And I would like to make sure that your family will be aware of your leaving. "_

"_I accept your offer, Mrs Traumayn, and I thank you for it. As for my family, they will be warned, and I give you my word that no matter how they react, I will come with you. But I shall ask you just one thing in return, for I am worried about the gossip around my name when it is known that I am a companion, I, Mrs Darcy's and Mrs Bingley's sister…"Mary trailed._

_Mrs Traumayn answered decisively: _

"_I am aware of the complications it may cause. Society is so narrow-minded that you or you family may be scorned if your situation is known. For me, I do not see that my companion should be ashamed of her position, so I will introduce you under your real name, but as a friend I have taken under my wing. I will make sure that you shall be received in all the places we will go, for you are a gentleman's daughter and you must be treated as such."_

"_I cannot thank you enough, Mrs Traumayn, for your understanding." Mary whispered._

"_Enough thanks; let me tell you where I have rented this house. It is situated in the country of Northampton…"_

"Miss Bennet!"

"Yes, Mrs Traumayn?"

"We shall arrive soon. The few servants I have sent should have already prepared the house. I have been told that Everingham provided all the comfort we should wish for, but I have not seen the house yet."

"Was it wise to rent it without having had the sight of it?" Mary could not help but ask.

"I sent my Londonian housekeeper visit it, and I have been assured that the bail was more than justified by the state of the house."

Then the carriage came to an halt. Mrs Traumayn and Mary got off it, and Mary could enjoy the elegance of Everingham, even though she did not think it could compare with the taste of Mrs Traumayn's house in London. Both tired by their journey, they spent the rest of the day unpacking their luggage, and Mary was glad her silent diligence proved a great help in the unavoidable disorder which greeted their arrival, for the servants had not expected them so soon.

* * *

Mary woke up early, but she was surprised to discover that Mrs Traumayn shared her habit as she found her already taking her breakfast. Mrs Traumayn then motioned for her to sit: 

"I am agreeably surprised to see that all young ladies are not as idle as they seem to be nowadays. If it is usual for you to get up at this hour, then we shall have breakfast together. Today we shall introduce ourselves to our neighbours. I do expect a courtesy visit from some of them tomorrow, but I have heard that one of them was an invalid, or rather is very indolent and therefore it falls upon us to make their acquaintance."

A few hours later, Mary, dressed in a grey dress Mrs Traumayn did not object to but commented that "it was correct, but the form and the colour were not very flattering for a young lady ", stood before a magnificent mansion.

"What a splendid house, Mrs Traumayn! And how exquisite the surroundings are!" she frankly answered to Mrs Traumayn's question on whether she thought this house redeemed the other houses of the area they had caught a glimpse of while driving to the mansion.

They entered the mansion, and a servant led them to a charming room where a lady in her forties but still handsome was languidly lying on a sofa, with in her arms what Mary, quite astonished, identified as…a pug?

Before Mrs Traumayn could introduce herself, someone exclaimed with a mix of disbelief and joyful surprise:

"Mary? I mean…Miss Bennet!"

Mary looked at the speaker: this lively countenance, those hazel eyes…

The quiet lady intervened then:

"Do you know my niece, Miss Bennet?"

Mrs Traumayn took her cue:

"I am your new neighbour, Lady Bertram. My name is Hester Traumayn, and I have rented Everingham where I will live with my young friend whose name is, as this young lady said, Miss Mary Bennet."

Lady Bertram nodded slowly:

"Please take a seat. I am pleased to meet you, and I am glad that Miss Bennet has already made the acquaintance of my niece, Miss Susan Price."

Susan Price! So this was the name of the girl she had saved, and she did remember her! Mary was flattered, but how would this impact her life at Everingham?

"I was not aware of the fact that you knew our neighbour's niece, Miss Bennet." Mrs Traumayn said.

_Neither was I, Mary thought_.

Miss Price intervened:

"We met just once, while I was away in London- do you remember, Aunt? However, I did not stay long there, and Miss Bennet and I have never been properly introduced to each other."

She did not mention the almost-accident, probably in order not to worry her Aunt, though Mary did not think that Lady Bertram was prone to alarm. Mrs Traumayn tried to converse with Lady Bertram, but all she got from the seemingly exhausted Lady was that she was sorry that _"Sir Thomas was not here, and that none of her children was here, either in London in the case of her daughter Mrs Yates, or in the parsonage nearby for her son Edmund and his wife Fanny_, who was Susan's sister if Mary understood well, _and her husband and her elder son were away for business"._ She did mention, though, that_" since Miss Bennet knew Susan, sh_e _would be welcome here whenever Susan was at her leisure_", and sorrowfully answered to Mrs Traumayn's invitation at Everingham that _"as for Sir Thomas and the others, she could not tell, but that **she** thought that the journey to Everingham was too trying for her health, and that Susan **might** come sometimes, but she depended much on her niece, and she needed her service dreadfully- she did not_ _know how she could have managed without her a whole week, and if Tom had not insisted that it would do much good to Susan to spend a few days in town, she would never have had it, but thankfully, her niece was back, so would not it be for the best if Miss Bennet was to come here instead?" _

Mrs Traumayn answered with a smile that she hoped to see the rest of the Bertram family in the future, and that Miss Bennet was free to visit Miss Price. Then she rose to depart, closely followed by Mary, after having reiterated her wish to receive a few members of the Bertram clan at Everingham, while Miss Price smiled warmly and supported her Aunt's invitation for Mary to come back.

As Mrs Traumayn sat in the carriage, she told Mary:

"Well, this visit was certainly more interesting for you than for me! I doubt Lady Bertram will grace Everingham with her presence, but I am glad to see that you have already an acquaintance, and I daresay, quite probably a friend!"

"A friend?" Mary asked, incredulous. "We have met only twice, and I do not even know Miss Price!"

"I had the neat impression that she was looking forward your next meeting. Poor child! She does not have many friends", Mrs Traumayn said pensively.

"What makes you think such a thing, Mrs Traumayn? She looks more daring than I, and her sister does not live far from here. Surely there is no way she could have no friends among the local society."

"When you are my age, Miss Bennet, I think that you will recognise the signs which tell that people are lonely and in need of a friend, a confident. I daresay that this is the case of Miss Price."

Mary remained silent, then remarked suddenly

" You did not tell me the name of the Bertram house, Miss Traumayn."

Mrs Traumayn replied:

"I was wondering when you would ask me. After all, the Bertrams are among our closest neighbours. You have just visited Mansfield Park, Miss Bennet."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

-_and here begins the crossover! you did not expect it anymore, did you lol?_

_- sorry it was a wholly Mary-centered chapter, but I found it necessary. Hope you got Mary's explanations and Lizzy's reactions, I tried to follow the line of reasoning of that time...But don't worry, we'll see Georgiana and Kitty again, but there is a split now between the main heroines..._

_-answers to reviews will be on my profile! I really enjoy your reviews, they mean a lot to me, and thanks you for helping me to improve my writing! want to see more of a character, suggestions? I would gladly take them into account! _

_**Coming soon: **more of Susan Price, a few new characters, another ball for Kitty and Georgiana, and Lizzy is keeping a secret?_


	8. Chapter 8 On gratitude and redcoats

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other lessener Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with other novels from Jane Austen.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

* * *

Susan Price was neither afraid nor ashamed to express her gratitude. They say that we only like people who owe us and that we heartedly dislike those whose services we should be thankful for. This was not in Susan's nature to be thus ungrateful. A little more than one year ago, she had left the rest of her family and her slum of a house for the elegance of Mansfield Park, where she had replaced her older sister who had been Lady's Bertram constant companion for the past ten years, until her sweetness won over Edmund Bertram, the second son of Sir Thomas, and she had to move with her husband in the parsonage nearby. Susan, at the tender age of fifteen, had been more than happy to make herself useful, being very well aware of her uncle's kindness. So she had fulfilled her daily and tedious tasks without complaining, sewing with her aunt, carrying messages from place to place and this an entire year. But she had been experiencing a strange loneliness which she had never been accustomed to before, when she used to struggle with her mother on a daily basis to take care of her younger sisters and brothers, for her mother shared with her sister Lady Bertram the same laziness, except for the fact that Lady Bertram could afford it whereas Mrs Price's sluggishness had terrible consequences on the whole household.

Her older sister was now wedded, and though she did not live very far away, she could not devote much time to Susan, having to fulfil the numerous duties of a parson's wife. Besides, Susan herself could not often get out of Mansfield Park, for her aunt felt lost without her. Her uncle, when he was not taken by his business, was a kind man, even though he was experiencing a few hardships on his own losing his usual solemnity. The only person in the house to whom Susan could really relate to was her older cousin Tom Bertram. His presence usually livened up her spirits, for Edmund and Sir Thomas, despite their inner kindness, did not always understand Susan's optimism and need for laugh and merriment. Whereas she was always restrained and quiet before Sir Thomas, fearing that her frank and not-quite-polished yet manners should find disgrace, she could tease her colder cousin at her leisure.

Truth to be told, Tom Bertram was trying hard to reform after a serious illness which had taken place a few weeks before Susan's arrival at Mansfield. He had been twenty-six then, and had done nothing remarkable besides spending his father's money and enjoying with his friends the pleasure of the parties given in Town. His illness, partly resulting from his hectic life, had made him reflect on his obligations as the eldest son and he had resolved to use the sense he possessed to gain his father's pride and had therefore dutifully applied himself to learn how to manage the estate and the family's interest. However, this was an arduous task, and he was glad to find a young cousin to protect and entertain, thus seizing the possibility to be the old Tom again. Alas, Susan could not see her cousin as often as she needed to, but he gave her some fine presents and it was on his suggestion (heavily repeated, for Lady Bertram's well-being was not to be taken lightly, especially by his father) that Susan could spend a week away in Town with the Yates, Mr Yates being a friend of Tom in his past days of leisure, and Mrs Yates being none other than the Bertram's younger daughter, the eldest residing in a foreign country due to a series of unfortunate events which the family seldom mentioned in front of Susan.

As for Susan making friends in the neighbourhood, this proved more difficult than the young girl had first believed, much to her chagrin for she was sociable. And Goodness did she feel lonely, despite her natural gaiety and her satisfaction to have left her suffocating home.

Miss Mary Bennet's reappearance had given her hopes. True, Miss Bennet had not said much and had looked like a very quiet young woman; but beyond her strict countenance, Susan had seen her loneliness too. Besides, she remembered how Miss Bennet had saved her from the wild carriage, how her concern had been directed towards her, a perfect stranger. And as it has been said before, Susan Price did not forget an act of kindness.

* * *

A breakfast at the Bennet home found a Mrs Bennet rather vexed by the fact that Mary had written to her father instead of her, and she could not help but tell her husband as he was trying to read Mary's letter:

"How could she do such a thing? I am her mother, and I have every right to know what she has to say about the life in London, the balls, the potential suitors Kitty has charmed already…but she has decided to write to you, who have no interest in these kind of news! This daughter is so ungrateful! She has no consideration for her own mother!" Mrs Bennet whined.

"Our daughter has been considerate of your feelings, since she asked me to inform you that she has accepted…"

"A proposal?" Mrs Bennet interrupted, filled with foolish hope.

Her husband looked at her with something akin to commiseration.

"She has accepted a position as a companion."

Nobody could exactly tell what happened next. It is reported that Mrs Bennet first accused poor Mr Bennet to speak in jest, as usual showing no consideration for her poor nerves, then the absent daughter bore the blame which was truthfully all hers, and this passionate speech ended with Mrs Bennet succumbing to one of her most trying (for herself as well as for the servants and her husband) nervous breakdown.

* * *

Very different from her mother's was Kitty's reaction. To a still-shocked Elizabeth who told her the news, she exclaimed:

"Mary, working? What a strange idea! She will not have time for amusement anymore! But", she added with an afterthought, "she did not enjoy our pastimes, so I guess that this will make no difference! And Lizzy, I wanted to ask you about tonight's ball. Do you know whether Lord Glowner and Mr Harrison will be there?".

And last but not least, Mr Darcy tried to control his breathing and began to slowly pace the room, aware of his dear wife's anxiety after she had just told him about her sister's firm resolution. Part of him was fuming, but he remembered that Elizabeth's family had always been a somehow touchy subject and he did not want to hurt his beloved (and himself in the process, since in the past many quarrels had stemmed from this topic, nearly costing him his dear Lizzy).

Instead, he calmly said:

"From what you have told me, we cannot interfere in your sister's decision, unless your father intervenes" but Mr Darcy, even though he had learned to respect his father-in-law, knew better, and were it not for Mr Bennet's undeniable affection for Elizabeth, he would have suspected him of indifference towards his kin, "or unless we discover that this Mrs Traumayn's reputation is questionable. I will inquire about this lady's former whereabouts, but if she is proved to be a respectable woman, we will not be able to convince your sister to come back to Longbourne. Do not worry, Elizabeth, if Mrs Traumayn is such a person, she is likely to keep her word and introduce your sister as a mere friend, and nobody shall speak ill of yours."

Elizabeth sent her husband a grateful look. He managed a smile:

"Shall we get prepared for the ball?"

* * *

Elizabeth was the first to enter the vast room, but what she saw almost urged her to leave straight away. She was not in the mood to smile back to Miss Bingley's equally insincere smiles, and with an overexcited younger sister who provided a perfect target for the Ton's gossip, especially when lead by Jane's terrifying sister-in-law.

Miss Bingley advanced towards Elizabeth, leaving her no room to escape. Soon, Darcy, herself as well as Georgiana and Kitty were surrounded by a little group. Miss Bingley greeted them:

"Dear Miss Elizabeth- I mean Mrs Darcy of course, I keep forgetting that you are happily wedded now!".

_Quite conveniently_, Elizabeth thought.

"And dear Mr Darcy, what a pleasure to see you again! Dearest Georgiana, you have grown since the last time I saw you! And Miss Catherine, I remember you", Kitty got a brief nod, very different from the almost toothy smile Georgiana was graced with.

"Let me introduce you to dear friends of mine: Miss Sophia Owen", a pretty black-haired woman with black eyes curtsied, and "Miss Annabelle Sanders- her brother is the Earl of Hampstead", Miss Bingley emphasised proudly the title as though **she **was the one whose brother was an Earl.

Kitty recognised the two women: the beautiful Miss Annabelle who had said little whereas Miss Sophia had insulted Kitty and, the young woman thought with vengeful satisfaction, her _dear_ _friend_ Miss Bingley as well.

Then a few gentlemen approached. Leading them was Lord Glowner, followed by Mr Harrison and another young man with clear yet impenetrable blue eyes and blond hair, who was introduced as Mr Rickman.

Miss Bingley surprised everyone (except for Elizabeth and Darcy) when she asked Kitty:

"How do you find London, Miss Catherine?"

"This is a wonderful city, and I cannot get tired of it!" an innocent Kitty answered, not aware that the entire group was silent, some of its members smiling benevolently at her enthusiasm (Mr Harrison, but did he ever do anything else?), others wearing a wary expression (Elizabeth and Darcy), waiting for the country girl to be ridiculed in front of the gentlemen (Miss Sophia and Miss Bingley) or simply listening to the ongoing dialogue without any particular interest (Miss Annabelle, Mr Rickman).

"This should have been quite a shock for you when you first arrived. Longbourne cannot compare to London" Miss Bingley said, stating the obvious, and added snidely: "The lack of redcoats in our society must have been the cruellest disappointment for you, as I know your interest in the militia."

Elizabeth's fingernails dug into her palms, Darcy looked with concern at his sister who had palled a little.

Kitty, oblivious to these reactions, replied quickly:

"You cannot be true, Miss Bingley! I know for a fact that Colonel Fitzwilliam will visit us soon. Even you cannot deny his belonging to the militia, and his rank among the redcoats will make up for the absence of his companions!".

The bubbling anticipation on Kitty's expectant face rose Darcy's suspicions. Lord Glowner should have thought along the same lines, since he asked the young woman to dance, which she readily accepted, and proceeded to literally drag the ever-talkative girl to the dance floor and began to talk to her on a very interesting topic which, Darcy was pretty sure of that, did not relate to the militia in any way. Miss Bingley and Miss Sophia looked slightly disgruntled at this sight, until Mr Rickman asked the latter to dance, followed by Mr Harrison who kindly offered the same to Miss Darcy, unknowingly taking advantage from Mr Darcy's distraction.

Mr Darcy was making a mental note to write his cousin to postpone his visit. Despite the fact that the Colonel had to marry for money and that Miss Catherine was penniless, Darcy did not give much of his gallant cousin's resistance if the young woman was ever to set her cap on him. The evidence of this was Lord Glowner who could not keep his eyes off his sister-in-law, although, Darcy had to admit it, she had never showed him any encouragement, if he did not count her, _hem_… open manners.

Elizabeth was thankful for the interruption provided by Lord Glowner. Kitty's lack of self-restraint was exhausting in itself, but she was grateful that Miss Bingley was not to know the truth about Mary's situation- her brother-in-law had promised that he would make sure of that-, for Elizabeth certainly did not wish for Miss Bingley to have more ammunition against her. Darcy asked her to dance, which she welcomed. At least she had her husband's support, and this was what mattered most to her.

Miss Bingley soon found herself alone, for it did not take long for Miss Sander's beauty to attract an eager-to-dance gentleman.

Meanwhile, Lord Glowner was asking Kitty the question which had been occupying his thoughts lately:

"Miss Bennet, my friend Harrison told me that you were ignorant of who I was when you…declined my offer to dance. Allow me to inquire if you would have acted the same way, had you known then that I was Lord Glowner", he said staring intently at her in a manner that she did not find disturbing at all, but once again, few things seemed to have the power to tone down Kitty's exuberance, and **_this _**left Lord Glowner quite irritated. His intent stare, carefully calculated, used to leave speechless and cowering many flirtatious young women who had (with little success, of course) tried to impress his lordship. Miss Catherine did not even looked shocked by Lord Glowner's innuendo:

"Nothing, except perhaps an order from the King, might have convinced me to break the rules of dancing."

"The rules of dancing?" Lord Glowner repeated.

Kitty solemnly nodded, but this gravity was lost with her giggles:

"Yes, one of the most important of them being the rule of prior engagement. Mr Harrison was the first to declare himself, and therefore it was my dancing duty to accept him. And your authoritarian claim did not speak in your favour. Had you been more gallant, I would have made no difficulty in granting you the second dance, since I had no engagement for this one."

"I did it to save you from a lame dancer" Lord Glowner defended himself.

"You are too hard on Mr Harrison! And even if it was the case, I had not the heart to refuse his generous offer on such grounds. Perhaps if he had looked like an unpleasant man such as Mr Collins, but only Lydia would have dismissed Mr Harrison for this reason" Kitty mused.

"Who are Mr Collins and Miss Lydia?" Lord Glowner inquired.

"Mr Collins is a cousin of mine and one of the dullest vicar of my acquaintance. His taste for sermons is only rivalled by my older sister's Mary. And Lydia is my young sister, but she is married now to Mr Wickham, a fine officer. We used to be very close and I can recall many balls we attended together. We tried to dance as often as we could with as many different officers as possible" Kitty sighed with nostalgia.

Near Kitty, Georgiana almost tripped at her mentioning Mr Wickham. It was not Kitty's fault, since Elizabeth was the only Bennet (well, a Bennet she was no more) to know about her past with the man.

_It had been two years now, but the wounds were still fresh. When could she forget the whole disaster? But first love did not let itself erase from her mind as easily as she wished it __to._ Nevertheless, she quickly managed to resume her dancing and assured the worried Mr Harrison that she was not tired.

Lord Glowner looked disdainful at Kitty's obvious (and undisguised) admiration for the redcoats:

"Well, the officers are surely good dancers but the taste of **_true_** gentlemen does not lie within them, you shall agree with me?".

Kitty said with indignation:

"Officers are true gentlemen, or else I would not have enjoyed their society so much! They are, unlike some shallow higher-ranking men, adventurous and gallant, which is enough for me, unless you are insinuating, Milord, that **_my_** taste is flawed!".

Lord Glowner was not used to objections, but had enough knowledge on the feminine mind to try a more tactful approach to impose his view:

"Certainly not, Miss Bennet! I just pointed out that many officers come from lower-ranking families and therefore are devoid of the culture which is ingrained in every gentleman. They may have charming manners, but they shall never reach, despite their goodwill, the ease and elegance of some gentlemen like your brother-in-law Mr Darcy."

Kitty looked little appeased by this precision, and did not let him have the last word:

"Well, Milord, I should share your opinion with Colonel Fitzwilliam as soon as I see him, but seeing that you attempted to save me from a lame dancer, I shall return the favour and save you from a duel which you are unlikely to win against an uncultured yet talented man like the Colonel, or so I heard Mr Darcy say."

And as the dance came to an end, she promptly curtsied and walked back to her sister alone, leaving for a second time a speechless Lord Glowner in her wake.

"_Infuriating man! How dares he mock the militia! It is a pity that he is so handsome… "_Kitty mused. Then she was given a lecture on the choice of her words by an angry Elizabeth, who still thought about the officer's part in Kitty's speech and yet kept her calm composure to an outsider's eyes. But Kitty did not listen to her sister (what a surprise indeed!) as she noticed the following exchange between Mr Harrison and the Earl of Hampstead:

"I must leave now, for Harding shall arrive in the evening. Will you come with me, John? Harding shall be pleased to see us to welcome him."

But Mr Harrison had no time to reply:

"Sanders, you cannot ask Harrison to come with you. I made him promise to stay with me this evening. It is unfortunate for Harding, but Harrison shall see him tomorrow" Lord Glowner drawled.

The Earl looked darkly at Harrison:

"Is this true, John? You **_gave your word _**to remain with Glowner the entire evening?"

"Do you doubt my words, Sanders?" Lord Glowner asked in a mock-offended tone.

"He said the truth, Lawrence. I forgot that Harding was due for this evening." Mr Harrison sadly answered.

The Earl sighed:

"As much as I loathe it, there is still one way out. John, could you ask from Glowner's kindness to free you from this bond?".

Mr Harrison turned pleading eyes towards Lord Glowner:

"I am sorry, but it has been a long time since I have actually seen Harding. Would you do…well, what Lawrence suggested?".

Lord Glowner replied:

"I would miss your company, but if this is your wish, I shall comply with the duty of friendship. However, I do see no harm in welcoming your friend tomorrow. This would not make a noticeable difference, and as a good friend, he shall understand that you have been delayed by" his eyes caught Kitty's peeping ones and he smirked "a prior engagement."

Mr Harrison, torn between his two friends, was still hesitant, reluctant to break his engagement.

The Earl shrugged, quite vulgarly according to his elegant sister, and said:

"I shall explain it to Harding myself. He will be understanding, but you would have been welcomed" and he left without a second glance.

Mr Harrison looked remorseful. Seeing this, Mr Rickman who had assisted to the whole exchange, stated in a precise, detached voice:

"You chose wisely, Harrison. Mr Harding is not quite the respectable relation your friends would wish you. Sanders is an eccentric, so his choice of friends shall not shock us, but you are not like them."

Mr Harrison blushed and said fiercely:

"Harding is the most respectable man I know and I am glad to be of his friends. He is a man of honour, and…"

Mr Rickman interrupted him with indifference:

"He is frowned upon in some circles, even though he is accepted in the others because of both his wealth and the memory of his father. However, his recklessness makes many think that he is the making of a rake. Lord Glowner sees it as clearly I do myself, and he is only attempting to prevent you from being associated with these men whose reputation might be tarnished sooner than expected. But you are too blissfully kind towards everyone for your own good, Harrison", he concluded, shaking his head.

Nearby, Miss Sophia Owen and Miss Bingley were whispering to each other:

"**_He_** did not walk her back after the dance. His interest is wearing off, dear Caroline! He will mark you soon", Miss Sophia was saying.

"I **_never_** doubted it, dear Sophia. But let us talk about more interesting topics: you did tell me that Mr Harding shall be in Town by tomorrow?".

"I heard it through Miss Sanders, whose brother is Mr Harding's best friend. I never saw him before, but it is said that he is quite the catch, if I daresay so myself!".

Miss Sophia had never seen Mr Harding before, but it was obvious to Miss Bingley that she was already prepared to find him agreeable herself and to accept his proposal after a few month's acquaintance, but _not sooner, all in due time_.

"He is very rich assuredly, but would it be very patriotic to marry him? After all, he is French by his mother…and Mr Rickman told me that his ideas were not exactly what they ought to be." Miss Bingley thought it necessary to say to mitigate her dear friend's hopes.

"His father was an Englishman, and a very respectable one too. His French heritage is non-existent as far as I am concerned", Miss Sophia deadpanned.

Then the two friends moved onto Miss Sanders herself:

"She is beautiful and quite wealthy herself. It will be easy for her to find a husband."

"This is not so sure", Miss Bingley said. "She has high standards. Did you know she refused two gentlemen because they were only five thousands a year? My brother would probably have been scorned too! "

"Really? And did you know that she is older than her brother? She is actually twenty-three, but I have to admit that she looks younger… at candlelight." Miss Sophia did not waste any time in spending her venom too, and Kitty was delighted to listen to their conversation until Miss Annabelle herself came to talk with her two dear friends about new acquaintances of hers _"Mrs Yates was very elegant, and her husband was one of the most agreeable man she had ever met" ,_ and Elizabeth asked her whether she had heard anything of what she had just said, to which Kitty nodded dumbly and departed along with Georgiana, who was her usual silent self.

* * *

The following day did not begin as a remarkable one in any way, as far as Kitty was concerned. She left Georgiana to her dull activities which consisted of playing the pianoforte and drawing, both of them requiring too much patience to be borne by Kitty. In the afternoon, she decided to have a talk with Elizabeth about the next events of the month and entered her sister's room without even knocking.

Elizabeth rose up and said angrily:

"Kitty! This is very rude of you to enter this room without my permission!".

But Kitty hardly listened to her, and replied instead:

"Whom were you writing to, Lizzy?" she asked, designing a sheet half-covered in Elizabeth's fine writing, along with a discarded quill lying on her desk, which she had vainly attempted to hide in her haste.

Elizabeth's cheeks burned and she answered slowly:

"This is none of your concern, Kitty. Your manners are indeed deplorable, and your entering my room today is only an example of how badly you are used to behaving. This might have been tolerated in Longbourne, but you are under Mr Darcy's roof, and your lack of decency is now unacceptable. If you do not want to be sent back to our parents, I strongly advise you to follow my counsels, and if you have no wish to do so for yourself, then do it for the reputation of our family."

Kitty opened her mouth to speak, but Elizabeth rose her hand to put a halt to her sister's protest:

"I will have none of your apologies or excuses, Kitty. Lydia is not with you anymore, and you shall learn not to mimic her actions which have always been improper and have harmed our family more than you might imagine", Elizabeth said with severity, but it was time for Kitty to realise which role she ought to play now. She ought to act with the modesty of a young woman of eighteen, and not to try and act like a petulant child she was no more.

Kitty did not reply to this, but turned her back on her sister and run to her own room, _probably to sulk_, Elizabeth assumed before she sighed and resumed her painful letter.

What she did not know was that in her room, Kitty had begun to weep silently.

_How I miss you_, she thought.

* * *

**_Author's note:_**

_-Sorry for the delay, but my courses have begun..._

_-Sorry too about the fact that Mary does not appear in this chapter, but I found it easier to focus about the other main characters of the story._

_-Any comments, questions and suggestions are welcome! your reviews make my day!_

**_Coming soon:_** _Mary meets Susan and makes new acquaintances in the neighbourood, Kitty is depressed and Georgiana notices..._


	9. Chapter 9 Blurting out and deductions

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other lessener Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with other novels from Jane Austen.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

To prymtns' request, here is the recap of the few OCs I have introduced so far: (sorry but a few more will come later…)

**Miss Sophia Owen**, 21, pretty woman with black hair and black eyes, "friends" with Miss Bingley and Miss Sanders. Enjoys gossiping. Seems disposed to marry the not-seen yet but reported to be wealthy Mr Harding.

**Miss Annabelle Sanders**, 23, sister to Lawrence Sanders, beautiful woman with blond air and blue eyes. Has not talked much yet. "Friends" with Miss Owen and Miss Bingley, and has met the Yates.

**Lawrence Sanders**, 22, Earl of Hampstead, friends with Mr Harrison and Mr Harding, attractive man with dark hair and green eyes. Dislikes Lord Glowner. Seems of a rather broody disposition. Is "much chased after" according to his sister.

**Mr John Harrison**, 23, good-natured gentleman torn between his friendship with Lord Glowner and with the Earl of Hampstead and Mr Harding. Seems prone to supply young ladies with precious information and offers to dance.

**Lord Alexander Glowner**, 25, friends with Mr Harrison and Mr Rickman, handsome with raven hair and piercing blue eyes. Quite eligible. Mutual dislike for the Earl of Hampstead. Seems interested in Kitty, but Miss Bingley sounds interested in him.

**Mr Peter Rickman**, 24, friends with Lord Glowner and Mr Harrison, blond hair and clear blue eyes. Approves of Lord Glowner's behaviour and advises Mr Harrison against being friends with the Earl of Hampstead, too "eccentric", and Mr Harding, "the making of a rake" according to him.

* * *

Mrs Traumayn had been right in her predictions. The following day, a few gentlemen came to pay their respects to the newcomers. Mary stood and curtsied as Lord Prescott, Colonel Harrison and Mr Charles Maddox were introduced. This was a new experience for her, since she could not escape the inquisitorial glances of the gentlemen as easily as she used to do at home, though involuntarily. However her demure demeanour was quick to let her go almost unnoticed, as usual. Lord Prescott, a tall grey-haired man aware of his importance, was eager to share with Mrs Traumayn, who smiled encouragingly, all the information she needed (as well as the information she did _not_ need) on the country of Northampton and his inhabitants. 

"We are a very quiet lot, but this young lady" he nodded towards Mary "might enjoy many balls".

He looked a little dubious nevertheless, having taken in Mary's severe clothes and serious composure. Needless to say, Mary had to conceal her horror at the idea of new balls to attend.

"My wife, Lady Prescott, may give one- and the Bertram shall certainly do so too. They are very well established- Sir Thomas is a most respectable gentleman. He did not deserve " he spoke in what he believed to be a whisper "the trouble his eldest…".

At this point Mr Charles Maddox, a young man in his late twenties with brown hair and blue eyes, with collected manners, coughed a little. It was discreet, but loud enough to interrupt Lord Prescott's gossip and make him realise that the acquaintance was too new to allow these confidences on others yet.

However, he had ignited Mary's curiosity. Not that she would ever admit it, but the years spent in the vicinity of her mother and younger sisters had developed her ability to pick on the gossip, and she could not help but wonder about Lord Prescott's unfinished sentence. Surely, a child of Sir Thomas had given him trouble. But which one? _"His eldest…"._ She remembered Lady Bertram talking about her absent children: she had mentioned two sons, Mr Top Bertram and Mr Edmund Bertram, and a daughter, Mrs Yates.

Mrs Traumayn asked Mr Maddox:

"Are you well acquainted with the Bertram, Mr Maddox?

The young man answered:

"A little, Mrs Traumayn. I am more acquainted with Mr Bertram, the eldest son, but I daresay that I have learnt to know him, and his family, better the past year, since he used to be in Town most of the year beforehand."

Mary understood. This Mr Bertram, as the eldest of Sir Thomas, was the profligate son. Neglecting his duties, he must have affected his father in many ways. And as a friend of him, Mr Maddox had believed it necessary to prevent Lord Prescott from speaking ill of Mr Bertram. But Mary was surprised to see this kind of behaviour, which she nevertheless disliked immensely, thus censored as an hideous secret. For, unfortunately, this was not quite uncommon among the heirs, and often met with leniency. This made Mary all the more satisfied with her new neighbours, who seemed to share the same high standards of moral as herself. However, although this did not deter her from her resolve to visit Susan Price, she decided to avoid this very occupant of Mansfield Park.

Meanwhile, after having answered to a very innocent question from Mrs Traumayn such as : "How do you find this country, Colonel? Living here might seem a little dull after your incessant travels while in the army" with a laconic:

"I prefer living here than in town. Never understood how my nephew can stand London", Colonel Harrison launched himself in a detailed tale of his campaigns against _"those damn.. em, infuriating French"._

Mary could not help but notice how Mrs Traumayn's smile had gradually become tired, for the Colonel was very enthusiastic in his discourse, and neither the dignified Lord Prescott nor the silent Mr Maddox had been bold enough to successfully end his speech. _(or perhaps they knew better, Mary thought, having herself experienced the difficulty to escape the flow of incorrigible speakers such as her mother…) _

Worried for the well-being of Mrs Traumayn, Mary realised that _she _had now to take part more actively in the ongoing conversation _(well, more of a monologue actually). _Her throat was dry and she felt very uneasy: _"Is it polite to intervene without having been addressed to? What would Fordyce say of it? But I have already done many things he would have disapproved of … " _A last glance at Mrs Traumayn convinced her that she had to make Colonel Harrison stop. After all, as a companion, it was her duty to ensure that Mrs Traumayn should not suffer any inconvenience, and right now, Colonel Harrison, despite all is goodwill, was one.

As Colonel Harrison had to breathe, Mary lost no time in taking advantage of the few seconds of silence to ask…well, the first thing she could think of:

"Have you read Fordyce's Sermons, Colonel?".

The words had just left her mouth that she realised how irrelevant she had sounded. Her eyes met confused faces. Colonel Harrison was clearly put off, Lord Prescott was blinking hard, but Mary did not notice Mrs Traumayn's little smile, more sincere than the one she wore a few minutes ago, and Mr Maddox was looking at her with more interest than before.

Mr Maddox said something about having overstayed his welcome, and Lord Prescott and Colonel Harrison followed him, Lord Prescott assuring Mrs Traumayn and Miss Bennet that he would make sure that Lady Prescott sent them invitations for her next ball.

And thus they left. Mrs Traumayn did not make any comments, much to Mary's pleasure, who was fearing a rebuke for her intervention. She was already thankful for Mrs Traumayn not to have shushed her before the visitors _(her mother had no qualms to do so)._ Instead, Mrs Traumayn said:

"Miss Bennet, I feel that some music would do me much good. Would you play for me?".

Mary nodded quietly and sat at the pianoforte. Mrs Traumayn had told her it was a gift from her late husband, adding:

"I have never been talented enough to play, though, and I must say with much shame that this beautiful instrument has not been used as often as it deserved to be. But I hope that we could remedy that", she had smiled significantly at Mary.

As Mary began to play, Mr Peterson's lessons came back to her mind. Mrs Traumayn closed her eyes, letting the beautiful music soothe her.

* * *

Kitty sat at the breakfast table. Lizzy was already there, but Mr Darcy and Georgiana were nowhere to be seen. Kitty was used to being among the first awaken, since even her daily, ordinary toilet took her much time. Choosing her dress for the day was not an easy task, and on these matters Kitty was a perfectionist. 

She took in the array of letters surrounding her sister and gaily asked:

"You are lucky to have so many correspondents, Lizzy! I wish I received half the amount of letters you got!".

Elizabeth smiled wanly at her sister's enthusiasm:

"Do not envy me, Kitty. These are mostly business letters."

Kitty's spontaneous grimace said enough about her feelings towards these grim matters.

Then she asked:

"Did I receive any letter too?".

"Kitty, if it was the case, they would have been put on your plate. But I am sure that Mama shall write to you soon. You know she usually writes once a week."

Kitty said nothing and went back to her scrambled eggs.

"Oh, and we are invited for tea by Lady Markinson today. You did not forget it, did you Kitty?".

"No, of course. I remember many things. More than you give me credit for." Kitty whispered.

* * *

Once more, Georgiana mentally sighed and admired Kitty's carefree manners. The room was full of ladies of the Ton sipping their tea and getting ready before asking their questions, some of them being very loaded. Miss Owen was there too, and it looked like Kitty was going to be the recipient of such an unwanted (at least, as far as Georgiana was concerned) attention: 

"You danced with Lord Glowner at last ball. How do you find him?" Lady Markinson began..

Silence fell as every woman of the room awaited Kitty's answer with anxiety, especially those whose nieces or daughters were still unmarried. Elizabeth could not help but feel a tiny bit curious too. She did not know which kind of relations had been established between her sister and Lord Glowner, but Kitty seemed to have made quite an impression on him for what she had seen, and Elizabeth welcomed any kind of logical explanation for it, even though it came from a very illogical source.

"He is very handsome, I cannot deny it, and he has some right to praise himself an excellent dancer. Though he is too high-and-mighty for my taste…I have known several charming officers whose company was more pleasant than his…" Kitty answered, oblivious to the ladies' amazement.

One of them voiced their thoughts:

"Dear Miss Catherine, you do not mean that Lord Glowner was less agreeable than a base soldier!".

"Well, yes, I meant what I said. Nobility does not make up for a gentleman's lack of gallantry! " Kitty exclaimed.

Some ladies huffed, but Elizabeth was proud of her younger sister proving that she lacked all the instincts of any gold-digger. However, she feared the topic of militia. Kitty still became way too passionate whenever she talked about it.

"Miss Bingley told me about your…interest in redcoats", Miss Owen said sweetly. Far too sweetly for Elizabeth's taste. "I trust this is a common interest with your younger sister."

"This tea is excellent, Lady Markinson", Elizabeth supplied.

Georgiana's grip on her cup tightened. This was not only a discussion on redcoats, but on a particular one, for she knew who Elizabeth's youngest sister had married, even though she was not aware of the specifics.

Kitty frowned and answered frankly:

"My young sister is happily wedded to an officer and a gentleman, Mr Wickham. This shall partly explain my good opinion of redcoats."

"Perhaps yourself would marry one. This would be a most perfect match" Miss Owen added.

To all present except Kitty, as usual oblivious, and Georgiana, not mean enough to understand Miss Owen 's innuendo, this meant that if Kitty had no taste to enjoy a gentleman's company, that is to say, Lord Glowner's company, over an officer's company, then she should settle for the officer and leave Lord Glowner to the caring clutches, em _hands_, of ladies more worthy of his attention.

Kitty raised her chin defiantly:

"I would not mind marrying one like Lydia did."

Elizabeth then exclaimed about having to leave for they were awaited somewhere else, and they hurriedly left while the ladies were exchanging mocking and relieved smiles, for it was clear that this Bennet girl was no threat for them. And Miss Owen had the pleasure of this _bon mot: _

_"Silly girl! One flirts with officers, one does not marry them!"._

_

* * *

_Kitty was weeping once again in her bedroom. 

Elizabeth had not lectured her, but had given her a disappointed look. She had thought that Kitty would not mention Lydia, for it was painful to remember the whole affair of Wickham's duplicity and her younger sister's elopement, followed by the whispers of the neighbours. But Kitty had fallen right into this Miss Owen's trap, and now she was the one the Ton would associate with the likes of Lydia. To declare publicly that she would marry an officer! How would Darcy react? Well, he would congratulate himself for having sent his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam a long letter in which he asked him, very courteously, to postpone his usual visit. However, although Colonel Fitzwilliam had agreed, Elizabeth had felt his bitterness from the slightly offended tone of his answer…But as for herself, she was decided to protect Kitty -better than her mother-from any unsuitable alliance, for she really believed that an honourable, intelligent gentleman could change her young and foolish sister for the best. Kitty was not as reckless as Lydia; she always had a (slightly) better sense of property, and without Lydia's influence, she had every opportunity to better herself. Elizabeth set her mind to discreetly inquire on Lord Glowner's intentions….

As for Georgiana…Elizabeth could not protect her young sister-in-law from the disagreement of having Wickham as brother, but she had hoped to avoid her the remembrance as often as she could. And this letter she had received the previous day…

But Kitty knew nothing of Elizabeth's burden. All she saw was her older sister who kept on judging her without trying to understand what she went through. And she still wept, nothing being left of the outward, confident Kitty Bennet the world knew.

A very, very soft knock was heard. Kitty sniffed then asked:

"Who is it?".

"Georgiana. May I come in, Kitty?".

At Kitty's permission, Georgiana slowly entered the room. She immediately saw Kitty's puffy eyes and gently dared to ask her:

"What is wrong? Why are you crying? Do you want me to call Elizabeth?".

"No, she shall not understand", Kitty answered. Georgiana said nothing, but her presence was enough for Kitty who did not need much encouragement to confide in her.

"I miss her" were Kitty's first words after she had gladly accepted the handkerchief Georgiana had silently proposed to her.

"You miss Mary?" Georgiana asked. "I have her address, you know, and she promised to write to me."

Kitty looked surprised:

"I was not talking about Mary. We never were that close. It is Lydia who I miss."

Georgiana felt weak:

"You mean…Mrs Wickham?" she managed to utter.

"Yes, but she shall remain Lydia for me. It has been a year that she left, and life is not the same without her. Longbourne balls were so boring! I had no one to share my impressions with, but only Mary who hates balls and always sits in a corner far away. And each time I see Lizzy or Jane, they always lecture me or advise me. They shall never replace Lydia", Kitty sighed.

Then she suddenly asked in an angry tone:

"Why is everyone so intent on forgetting her?" she asked. "I know she eloped, but she is married now- why still holding grudges? This happened a year ago! And in every discussion, we talk about Jane and Lizzy but except for Mama and I, no one cares for Lydia! This is not fair!" she insisted.

Georgiana registered what Kitty was telling her. Good heavens! Lydia Bennet had married Mr Wickham after having eloped with him…Exactly what may have happened to herself. She had been informed about their marriage by her brother, who had told her that Miss Lydia Bennet "had to" marry Mr Wickham quickly. She had assumed that the young woman had been seduced like herself, but to learn of such a parallel!

"How old is your sister?" she asked without hesitation. She wanted to know.

"Lydia is seventeen. She was not sixteen when she eloped."

Georgiana had to sit on Kitty's bed for she could not stand anymore. Suddenly, she felt much empathy with Lydia's situation, and her heart ached when she thought that _she_ could have been judged and scorned instead of the actual Mrs Wickham. Her vision became blurry, nevertheless she heard Kitty's rambling with an awful clarity:

"There is not much wrong in an elopement, I think. This is so romantic! Sometimes I wish I was the one who had been to Brighton and not Lydia- I was quite jealous for some time. Of course, I understand that what she did gave us much worry and trouble, but she is happy now, even though everyone doubt it. She did it out of love, and so did he, did not he? Or he would not have married her" she asked turning imploring, watery eyes towards Kitty. Georgiana was moved by Kitty's sincerity as she went on:

"I overheard Lizzy and Father. They believed that Uncle Gardiner had to pay in order to have Wickham marry Lydia. They spoke about a sum of ten thousand pounds at least. But this cannot be true" she laughed brightly. "Uncle is married and has four children, and even I know for a fact that he is wealthy, but not enough to spend ten thousand pounds on getting his niece married! So this is the evidence: Mr Wickham did love her!"

She sighed dreamily. "You know, Georgiana, he is one of the most charming man I have ever met. If only I could be asked by a handsome officer to elope with him to Gretna Green…Think of what an exciting adventure this would be! How happy Lydia must be… ".

Despite herself, Georgiana was bold enough to ask:

"Do you have any reasons to think this is not the case?".

She found that Kitty insisted too much on her sister's happiness, as though she wanted to convince herself.

Kitty looked stricken:

"Well, this probably means nothing…but the last time she came to Longbourn, Lydia had told us that now she was a married woman, and that we could write to her, but she would not have enough time to answer…I have written to her, many, many times. She never answered to me, but she wrote a few letters to Mama. I do not know anything on her life anymore" she cried.

Georgiana tried to appease her, but she was herself quite shocked. She began to make some facts connect with each other: who was rich enough to pay the ten thousand pounds Wickham was bound to demand to marry the young, naive, poor girl Lydia was? Who had the interests of the Bennet family at heart without necessarily being a relative of the Bennet?

She asked Kitty:

"How was your sister found?".

"In London. I heard Lizzy and Jane talking about a Mrs Younge who had given much precious information."

"Mrs Younge!" Georgiana palled. There was no possible doubt anymore: only Fitzwilliam, from his past experience with the woman, knew that she would be the link to Wickham. He had been to London, had searched for Lydia and him; and eventually, he had paid to save the Bennet honour, the honour of the family of his beloved.

"Georgiana, are you well?" Kitty had ended noticing Georgiana's discomfort.

Georgiana stood and mumbled incoherently:

"Kitty, there are some…events, and …deductions, I shall tell you about, but not…not now, later. My mind is still confused, for I have just understood the role _he_ played…and you shall _never_, _never_ hope for a man like Mr Wickham to lure you into eloping with him!" she finally exclaimed with a strength which astonished Kitty who could only nod weakly, before hastily exiting the room.

* * *

Mary, carefully dressed in a greyish dress, had resolved, with the approval of Mrs Traumayn, to visit Miss Price. Mansfield Park was not far, and as Mrs Traumayn had stated she would rather take a nap herself than facing a dozing Lady Bertram, Mary had judged it wiser not to use the carriage for her own use and to walk herself to Mansfield. She had never been much of a walker, but she found solace in the well-known fact that _"exertion should always be in proportion to what is required" _and if a few miles meant making an acquaintance (which was quite new for Mary) then she did not mind the fatigue…much. 

At last she arrived at Mansfield Park. After been introduced in a quiet room, she only waited a few minutes before Susan Price came, looking radiant at the sight of Mary.

"_Was she really waiting for my visiting again ?"_ Mary thought with disbelief. And then she dreaded the following minutes of conversation. How could she keep Miss Price's attention and not blurt out awkward questions like she did with poor Colonel Harrison?

* * *

_**Author's note:**_

_-I can't tell you how sorry I am for the delay. With my classes and such, I could not find time to write as I had planned. And I always fret about mistakes, since I have no beta, and...But here I stop because it is my fault and I should not blame it on others (quite a Mary-like thought, isn't it?). And don't worry, I intend to finish this story._

_-if you still want to review, go ahead please! a review is a very powerful incentive when one is late in one's updating (it fills us with guilt...)_

_**Coming soon: **Susan and Mary discuss (or try to), Georgiana makes up her mind whether she should tell Kitty her deductions or not, and we meet with a new gentleman ..._


	10. Chapter 10 The purpose in wandering

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other lessener Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with Mansfield Park.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

* * *

"Did you walk here, Miss Bennet?" Susan inquired.

"I did, but I am not much of a walker" Mary replied.

"You shall have plenty of time to reconsider your opinion, Miss Bennet. I daresay that you shall enjoy wandering in the woods nearby." Susan exclaimed.

"I do not see the point of wandering aimlessly. For me, walking shall have a purpose. It is nonsense to walk without knowing where to go or which lane to take. To stay at home, and to spend one's time and energy on studying philosophical topics is a more engaging pastime" Mary answered in her best reasonable voice.

"But certainly, Miss Bennet, you may walk for your pleasure? To admire Nature's beauty is already an aim in itself?" Susan asked.

Mary remembered the numerous lyrical poems she had read beforehand, celebrating the wonders of the seasons and the changes of the colours of the leaves which ensued…What a shame that she seldom felt the need for a walk to rejoice in the sheer sensations provided by her surroundings. Curled up in her favourite chair, only sitting properly with her back straight each time somebody entered the room, this was how she used to marvel at the savage beauty of Nature. Sometimes, however, as she gazed distractedly through the window, the landscape served as a scenery for idle dreams…

Sensing Susan's expecting gaze, she said quickly:

"Oh, yes, of course. _What are men compared to rocks and mountains_?" she happily quoted.

"Nature reminds us of our insignificance" she droned on, then stopped abruptly seeing Miss Price's dismay.

_Quick, which banalities may I say? What did Lizzy and Jane use to do when talking to _strangers?

"I hope you may tell me more about this country, Miss Price. I do confess that I am fairly ignorant of its customs and people" Mary attempted to renew the conversation, and it cost her a great deal to overcome her pride at admitting her ignorance, no matter how natural it was. But never before had she met someone as eager to talk to her as Miss Price, so she felt that she had to deserve this civility.

"I have been living here for one year, so I may not be of great help" Susan answered.

"Where did you live before?" Mary inquired.

"Portsmouth" was Susan's short reply.

Mary's curiosity made her ask for more details:

"How is Portsmouth? Is it an agreeable city?"

In Mary's opinion, "an agreeable city" was a city which might account for no least than three bookshops.

"It buzzes with activity" Susan answered honestly.

"As for its being agreeable, well, it depends on which side of the city you are living in, but I miss its energy" she added defiantly, her face momentarily darkened as she glanced at Mary to gauge her reaction.

"I have never travelled much before coming here," Mary confided. "I left Longbourne for London, and now here I am." she said tentatively.

"To be honest, this is the first time, after the last few weeks I spent in London, that I live outside Longbourne."

"Really?" Susan asked, looking somewhat relieved.

"So do I! Beside Portsmouth, I never got to see another place. I used to envy William, my elder brother. He is a sailor, you see, and sometimes I wished I had been a man to enrol in the Navy and to travel freely, seeing all these wonderful places…"

Mary was not shocked by Miss Price's statements, even though the wish of being a man might have been a bit extreme. However, Mary had herself felt the same. Perhaps her thirst for instruction would not have been laughed at had she been a man. She might even have turned into a renowned scholar.

Her Father then would not have deadpanned every reflection she tried to share with him, and perhaps –how this would have been her most cherished reward!- they might have established a bond as strong and precious as the one he had with Lizzy. Although Mary was the first to recognise that she had not been a very entertaining daughter- _a dutiful one, undoubtedly, but a very boring one too-_, she would have gladly traded her father's sarcastic remarks each time she tried to say something deep which would draw his attention on her good sense against the affectionate irony he kept for Lizzy.

"I felt so excited when I arrived- but the circumstances of my arrival were rather sinister at that time. Thankfully everything turned out to be all right, and…Fanny!" Miss Price cried.

A young woman about Mary's age had just entered. Her modest attire did not hide her beauty, and she had an aura of softness which reminded Mary strongly of Jane.

"Mary" Susan said, forgetting the formal Miss Bennet, but Mary for once did not mind this slip of the tongue, " I would like you to meet my sister, Fanny Bertram. She married our younger cousin, Edmund- he is a clergyman. Fanny, this is Mary Bennet- she has just moved in with Mrs Traumayn".

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet" Mrs Bertram said softly. "Please forgive my sister's manners- Susan is very spontaneous".

Mary reassured the young woman who was looking slightly apprehensive. Miss Price's vivacity had nothing to do with her younger sisters' permanent euphoria, which gave her headaches. Miss Price was a good listener- this quality alone warmed Mary's self-esteem, but for some reason she looked like she too needed someone to talk to. And Mary was willing to give as much as she received.

"Will you stay for dinner, Fanny? Edmund shall come too. This has been a whole week without seeing you! Lady Bertram shall be so glad- and you shall be here for Sir Thomas and Tom's arrival! What an agreeable surprise it shall be for them both!" Susan asked.

"I am sorry, Susan, but I cannot stay, and neither can Edmund. There is so much to do, with the parish and its responsibilities. Mrs Simpson is still ill, and Edmund had hardly left her bedside. He shall come home late, and I want to be here to prepare his dinner as soon as he arrives. I came to invite you for dinner. It shall take place on Friday. And, Miss Bennet, since you are new here as is Mrs Traumayn, perhaps you might ask her if she wants to join us with you?".

Mary, startled, acquiesced. She caught Miss Price's crestfallen look as her sister left, but Susan managed to smile at Mary:

"I hope Mrs Traumayn and you may come. Perhaps we may play whist together! This is no fun to play against Fanny, she is far too nice and will let you win. Edmund is very much the same."

"What about the other players?" Mary asked. "Lady Bertram has some difficulty with the rules, but Sir Thomas is very much experimented at this game. I shall not even speak of Tom. He shall beat me every time but he never tells me where he learned to become such an expert! Sometimes Charles Maddox plays too, but he is no real threat! " she laughed.

Mary did not dare comment on the skills of Tom Bertram- _a gambler, surely!_ – but she worried about the enthusiasm of Miss Price. She confirmed Mary's fears:

"I really do enjoy his company, you know. He is like a brother to me, since William is so often away. He makes me laugh and he gives me advice whenever I need it. But he has been more and more busy lately so he does not have much time for me…You shall meet him on Friday if you come. He is very open- you cannot be shy around him. And you shall team with me against him when we play whist!" she exclaimed.

Prudent, Mary replied:

"I do not know yet whether we will be able to come for dinner, but if it is the case, I am afraid, Miss Price, that I am a lame player."

This was not quite true, for Mary had learned early the basis of the game; but each time she had to sit at one of her Aunt Phillips' table, the players were too engrossed in the latest gossips to pay any attention to the game, which irritated Mary to no end, since she was a very focused player. But Mary felt it wiser not to boast about her interest for the game, since she had yet to meet players as resolved to win as she was, and so far her partners and opponent had outrageously neglected the game, depriving Mary of any valuable victories. Only once a Mr Hurst had turned out to be a surprisingly valuable opponent, but Mary was disgruntled to think that she had been outsmarted by a man who could not sustain an intelligent conversation to save his life, and whose only interests beside the games were the hour at which dinner would be served, or the quantity of punch remaining.

"I shall leave now, Miss Price. I hope that Mrs Traumayn accepts this kind invitation." Mary confessed.

"So do I, Miss Bennet", Miss Price reverted back to more formality, but her eyes smiled.

And Mary left in high spirits. She felt almost ready to do something unusual. To wander aimlessly, for instance, and to try to admire Nature's beauty…And so she decided to walk through the woods rather than to follow the usual, straight path she had taken to come to Mansfield Park…

* * *

Georgiana opened the door of her room. There stood Kitty, looking more noisy than ever. This was not everyday that the usually "_dreadfully shy"_, talking- only- when- addressed- to, Miss Darcy urged her to come to her room at eleven because she had something important to tell.

Georgiana motioned for Kitty to sit, then began without looking her in the eye:

"I must have surprised you yesterday, Kitty, with might have sounded as ill-advised words. I realise how impertinent I may have appeared to you, and for this I want to apologise. But there are some justifications to my advice, and I have reached the conclusion that you should learn what I know about Mr Wickham, no matter how ill you shall think of me afterwards."

This increased Kitty's curiosity. How could she ever think ill of Georgiana? The girl was too nice and well-bred, and in Kitty's opinion, too perfect for her own good.

"I know Mr Wickham personally. In fact, I have been knowing him from childhood." Georgiana stammered.

" He was gay and charming then. My father loved him dearly, and hold him in great esteem. This was how I remembered him when I met him again at Ramsgate. I was fifteen then, and very naive- but this does not exempt me from any blame. I should have known better than to agree to such a folly- to accept to hide all this from Fitzwilliam- to give my trust to a man who I had not seen for years and whose life was a complete mystery to me!" Georgiana exclaimed incoherently, forgetting Kitty's presence.

"Georgiana, what do you mean? What did Mr Wickham to you?" Kitty asked.

" He convinced me to elope with him!" Georgiana admitted.

Kitty stood dumbfounded while Georgiana gave way to the feelings which had remained unexpressed for a long time:

"If William had not arrived one day sooner, I would not have realised the _wrong _I was doing. I felt so guilty for even accepting to elope to Gretna Green with Mr Wickham without sparing a single thought for my brother who had taken the pains to bring me up whereas I was shamelessly betraying his confidence!"

"So what did you do? How did Mr Darcy discover your intent?" Kitty asked without breathing.

"I confessed it all to him. He deserved the truth. And so do you, Kitty. I was afraid for you since you professed your admiration for elopements. But this is not right. If a man really loves you, he shall not ask you to lie to the ones who care for you. He shall dare face your family and ask their blessings.Don't hope for this to happen to you, Kitty! All you shall gain by that would be a broken heart and a rake as husband!"

"And Mr Wickham…" Kitty trailed.

"He never loved me. This was a trap to get his hands on my dowry and to hurt William."

Kitty was still struggling to accept the truth.

"But why did he elope with Lydia who had no fortune at all? What benefits did he hope while marrying her?".

Georgiana had previously reflected on this, but she did not share her deductions with Kitty. Instead, she blushed a deep crimson but Kitty went on:

"Or did he really mean to marry her at first? Did he just plan to…_seduce _her?" she gasped.

One glance at Georgiana's embarrassment confirmed her suspicions.

"But how come he did marry her, finally? Surely he must have loved her?" she hoped.

"What you told me yesterday about the circumstances in which your sister was found led me to believe that my brother was somehow involved in her marrying Mr Wickham."

"How?" Kitty asked, still bewildered by all these revelations.

"He was with Elizabeth when she had to leave very abruptly. I assume she did tell him the truth, and that he resolved to help her, strong of his previous dealings with Mr Wickham. He left just one day after. He knew Mrs Younge, my previous chaperone, had been connected to Mr Wickham…"

"What horrid conspiracy around you! Poor Georgiana! I shall never, ever mention this awful Mr Wickham again!" Kitty exclaimed vehemently. She did not doubt Miss Darcy's story and was deeply moved by the sorrow of the young woman.

"Such deception! To think that this man is now married to Lydia! How can she have faith in him? Oh, Georgiana, I am so sorry I have reminded you of him! I did not know…I had no idea…"

Then, she was struck by another thought:

"Does Lizzy know?"

"I think she does, but she probably did not want to make me relive these memories. She never said one word to me about this.You are the only person, beside William, to whom I confessed it."

"I am glad that you did it, Georgiana. I promise you that your secret is safe with me. Poor Lydia! I do not envy her any more. I am so angry at myself…How could I have been so silly and irresponsible?" she cried, frustrated.

"Why should you, Kitty? You could not suspect Mr Wickham."

"But I knew, Georgiana! Lydia had written to me that she was often in his company, and she even told me about her plans to elope with him two days before Colonel Forster alerted Father! And perhaps if I had said right away what she had made me swear not to tell before she could write to our family from Gretna Green, perhaps she could still flirt and laugh with honourable men who would not betray her confidence at the first occasion! What if she is unhappy and miserable because of me?".

"Please, Kitty, do not torment yourself. You were young and nothing could have made you think that Mr Wickham would not keep his word to marry your sister! And it is likely that before your father could ride to Brighton in order to prevent her from eloping, she would have gone already." Georgiana reasoned.

"A part of me thought that she was only boasting. An elopement was something which happens in fairytales, not in real life. But the worse was, I refused to give Lydia's letters to my family after we learnt she had run away. I felt that it would be betraying her."

Georgiana comforted her, and Elizabeth had the agreeable surprise to see her sister and her shy sister-in-law smiling at each other during the quiet dinner, and even more surprised when they both asked her permission to go shopping in Town together the following day. Kitty's volunteering for attending drawing lessons, which she had previously described to her sister as "dreadfully long", completed Elizabeth's stupefaction.

_Why, everything happens_, she concluded. And suddenly she thought of Mary. Where was she, what was she doing at that very moment?

* * *

_This was the last time she ever succumbed to a silly, unreasonable whim,_ Mary resolved as she discovered that wandering in the woods did nothing for the elevation of her soul. So far she had not nurtured any deep, life-changing reflection, but she had worryingly wondered:

1) if the air was not too fresh, which might make her catch a cold, not that she suffered from hypochondria, but this was the third time she was withstanding the urge to sneeze ; 2) **where was she??** . Not that she was panicking.

_A firm spirit reflects, it does not fret._

"Are you lost, Miss?" a voice carelessly called.

Mary turned and saw a young man with dark brown hair, elegantly dressed, standing a few feet away. The first seconds of fear vanished, replaced by indignation. How dared this stranger call her so, without introducing himself beforehand? His light tone made her words sounded like : _"Lost your way, lass?"._ And how dared he assume that she was lost?

She coldly replied:

"Sir, thank you but I do not need your services. I do know where I am going."

His sceptical face made her feel compelled to add:

"I am not foolish enough to walk without a purpose, Sir."

Then she gave a brief nod and deliberately turned her back on him, as collected as ever. But:

"What is your purpose the, may I ask, Miss?". He said, mimicking her perfect correction.

_The cheek of him! _

She turned again. Yes, this was it! His brown eyes looked merely amused.

"I have no intent of being disrespectful, Sir, but this is none of your concern."

"Pardon me, Miss, but methinks you are lost." he retorted with this same irritating assurance.

_Arrogant fellow! She would not let him win! She was a sensible woman, and after reasoning a little, she would find her way. Never had she asked for help before, and she would certainly not begin now! Especially when the help did come from a young man who needed a few good lessons of humility! Where was Mr Peterson when this young dandy was brought up?_

"I certainly am not!" Mary replied angrily, her grey eyes flashing dangerously.

"Methinks the lady does protest too much".

_Wait…This air-headed knew Shakespeare? Probably the only reply he was able to quote, Mary resolved, for it was too disturbing to think that one of her favourite author could provide others with the power to reduce her to silence._

"Mr Maddox!" she suddenly exclaimed with much relief and nearly ran to him _(she walked_ _quickly, but she still retained her dignity, thank you very much),_ leaving behind the insolent man.

The quiet young gentleman looked at her questioningly:

"Miss Bennet?". He bowed, then glanced at the other man and opened his mouth, but Mary went straight to the point and whispered:

"I am so glad to see you, Mr Maddox! I was heading to Mrs Traumayn's , and this gentleman reckoned that I was lost!".

"Excuse my question, Miss Bennet, but is it not the case?".

Hearing footsteps behind her, Mary gave in and, still lowering her voice:

"Not exactly. I just need to know which direction I should go. But this man shall triumph if I ask for some indications, and I cannot let him!".

She felt suddenly uncommonly childish, but Mr Maddox smiled and said loudly:

"Please give my regards to Mrs Traumayn", and slightly tilted his head leftwards.

"I certainly shall, Sir" Mary gave a nod in acknowledgement and followed this direction, not bothering to look at the rude gentleman.

Half an hour later she was relating her encounter with Miss Price and her sister, along with Mrs Bertram's invitation, to Mrs Traumayn. She did not felt it useful to mention that she had lost herself in the woods because she had heeded to Miss Price's advice to wander and enjoy Nature's Beauty. This sounded way too out of character for her no-nonsense persona.

"Well" Mrs Traumayn said, "I shall accept this invitation. The Bertram family is very well-known in the country, and this would be the occasion to meet them intimately. Which dress would you wear, Miss Bennet?".

"A dark grey one, as usual, Mrs Traumayn. Would it do?"

"It would look very respectable, I am sure" Mrs Traumayn answered. "However, if you want to change your wardrobe, I would be glad to give you some advice."

Mary instinctively drew backward:

"I feel quite comfortable in my clothes, but I thank you nonetheless. Do you want me to read?"

"Another day, I would rather listen to your beautiful playing. I still have not heard your reading, nor your singing. But we have enough time to postpone it."

Mary nodded, relieved. She did not fear her reading, but she knew that her singing made people cringe, and she desperately wanted to keep Mrs Traumayn's good opinion of her talents. She resolved to train meanwhile, and she began playing, impatient that Friday should come soon, eager to meet Miss Price again.Friday would certainly be an interesting evening.

* * *

**_Author's note:_**

_-right now, I am dying with shame: school treats me horribly, and so I will not be able to post once a week as I had it planned. Sorry for the waiting, I'll try to post next week though._

_-reviews, anyone? Please? I do not deserve them, but I love them so much! Pathetic, I know. Still, your comments and suggestions REALLY interest me!_

_**Coming soon** (well, as soon as possible): Friday's evening at the parsonage, Kitty & Georgiana's encounters in Town, and Mary's first letter to Georgiana! _

* * *


	11. Chapter 11 Evening at the parsonage

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other lessener Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with Mansfield Park. 

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

* * *

Georgiana felt incredibly relieved since she had confessed her near-elopement to Kitty. It was the first time she had dared touched on this painful subject. With William it had been impossible, for he had kindly made it clear to his sister that the "incident" was forgotten. So kindly, in fact, that Georgiana had felt awfully ill-at-ease. Once again, Pemberley had been her shelter, her brother's presents- and his presence too- aiming at making her as carefree as before. Each time she remembered her brother's behaviour, she was ashamed for having treated him so badly. With his sense of duty, he had certainly felt responsible for her error. And unlike many others, he had not punished her, rightly understanding that the discover of Wickham's duplicity had punished her enough. He could have locked her in a dark room- _well, this was very unlikely, but the idea was here_-, put her under the vigilance of a severe dowager, or even- _the very_ _thought frightened her_- sent her to her terrible Aunt, Lady Catherine, telling her the whole story.

The last option was definitely the worse. Her Aunt, she was sure, would not have been as sympathetic as this other Catherine who wanted to be called Kitty.

She had been so afraid to lose the young woman's esteem, and strangely, Kitty seemed more interested in befriending her now. Well, she did not understand the wheels of the Bennet sisters'mind, but she did not care. If she had been able to convince Kitty not to do the same mistakes, then her confession had been for the best.

* * *

Kitty was still shocked by Georgiana's confidences. But she did trust her implicitly. The horror of Wickham's true character, the doubt on her young sister's marital life, the astonishment to learn of the generosity of this cold and arrogant man, Mr Darcy_- how he must love Lizzy, then! Now I understand why she did marry him, after all- and Mama was wrong, it was not for his money! It was out of gratitude, and perhaps even love- _and above all, to learn that Georgiana had been so…so **bold!**

Kitty had always considered herself as more sensible than Lydia, due to her being one year older. This was partly true, for she was indeed more sensible, but far less than she praised herself to be.

However, had she been proposed to elope, she would have seriously hesitated, no matter how sorely tempted she would have been. She used to think of an elopement as a most romantic gesture, but she would not have easily eloped. First, she was aware of the inconveniences of an elopement; then, although she was too innocent to think that the destination was not Gretna Green, she would not have eloped with the first amiable young man. Of course she was not averse to the silliness of flirting- she had not been Lydia's sidekick for years for nothing!-, but she was well aware that flirting was not falling in love. And Kitty Bennet had rather high standards for the man whom she ought to marry: handsome, rich _(the influence of Mrs Bennet had somehow crushed Kitty's most romantic and non mercenary_ _aspirations_), adventurous. So as you can see, Kitty Bennet would not have eloped so easily as many assumed. This was what made her think highly of Georgiana, whom she had quickly classified as belonging to the "dull and proper" category. Now Kitty was compelled to forget her prejudice, and her admiration for Georgiana's unsuspected boldness was the first incentive to make friends with her.

With these thoughts she was done tying the ribbons of her hat and went to find Georgiana to parade in Town.

* * *

Mrs Fanny Bertram had been true to her promise: Mrs Traumayn and Mary had received an invitation at the parsonage. Meanwhile, Mary had dutifully fulfilled her task as a companion. She had played every evening, had read aloud the poems Mrs Traumayn was so fond of, trying to correct her reading according to Mrs Traumayn's comments.

Mrs Traumayn had listened to Mary's reading interestedly. The young woman had read with the application of a pupil: loudly enough to be heard, but without any trace of emotion in her voice. She had been saddened by the fact that Miss Bennet, who had many difficulties expressing her own feelings in real life, could not achieve to do so while reading the feelings of others. Sure, there was no mistaking in the way her eyes were suddenly more alight, but to less observant people Miss Bennet looked emotionless. However, Mrs Traumayn had not suggested to Miss Bennet more expression in her voice: this would have only confused the young woman. Instead, she had subtly given her technical advice on the way she should articulate words, without exaggeration but in order to reach a perfect elocution. And she was proud of Miss Bennet's ability to do so, often judging that with a good teacher, Miss Bennet could have achieved earlier a great deal of accomplishments, and perhaps, if properly encouraged, she might have possessed enough assurance not to always carefully guard her feelings. She had been surprised when one evening, she had taken a nap, exhausted, while Mary was reading- and how, waking up half an hour later, she had found Mary still gently reading.

"Miss Bennet, how much I appreciate your devotion to your task, you ought to have stopped when I fell asleep! I would not have blamed you, and you would have spared yourself a sore throat!" she had exclaimed.

Miss Bennet had a rueful little smile:

"I am used to people dozing or talking whereas I have begun to read. This does not bother me".

"Who? Who may have been indelicate enough to act so rudely?" Mrs Traumayn had asked.

Miss Bennet had looked surprised by Mrs Traumayn's outburst against the offenders:

"Well, my younger sisters, sometimes my elder too- and my mother. I cannot blame them, for my readings do not interest them much."

"Nonsense! Would **_you_** act so, Miss Bennet? Even admitting that the orator would be quite dull?" Mrs Traumayn had interrupted.

"Well, no, but others do not feel the same way and we cannot change it" Miss Bennet had answered.

"Listen, Miss Bennet, the rules of _savoir-vivre _do apply to everyone. Respect does work both way. Do not let other people look down on you, and promise me that next time I fall asleep while you are reading, you shall consider your duty over."

Miss Bennet had looked very pale, startled. Mrs Traumayn had realised with a pang of heart that she was not used to being talked so.

And now they were on the way to the parsonage. Mrs Traumayn looked at Mary's dress: very strict, greyish. She could not reproach anything to the dress except that it made a young woman of nineteen look like a middle-aged dowager. But she had understood that Miss Bennet liked hiding in these clothes, so she had not the strength to deprive her of her shell. And thus they arrived at the parsonage, greeted by the charming Mrs Bertram and her husband, a kind-looking young man.

Mary was comforted by the sight of Mrs Bertram, but she hoped she should see Miss Price. There was something in Miss Price's frank and open manners which made her feel welcome. As she was introduced in the dining room, she spotted Miss Price in a modest brown dress. Miss Price saw her too, for she flashed her a bright smile and came to her, leaving Lady Bertram, comfortably seated in a chair overflowing with cushions, Mary noticed, to the care of several men whose backs were the only things Mary could see of them.

"Miss Bennet! Mrs Traumayn! How good to see you again" she exclaimed.

Once again, Mrs Bertram looked slightly uneasy by her sister's display, but Mary did not see why. Miss Price did not have the cheek of Lydia and Kitty.

Mrs Bertram's husband, the young Mr Edmund Bertram, made the introductions. He called the men who were discussing near Lady Bertram:

"Mrs Traumayn, Miss Bennet, let me introduce you to Mr Charles Maddox."

"We know him already. How do you do, Mr Maddox?" Mrs Traumayn said.

"And this is my elder brother, Mr Tom Bertram." Mr Edmund went on.

A tall young man made a perfect bow, then Mary met his dark brown eyes looking amused when he recognised her.

_So Mr Tom Bertram was this impudent stranger!_

She gave him a criticising look as she noticed that he was the most "fashionable" man of the little assembly. As a parson, his young brother was dressed more simply, and Mr Maddox was not as elegant as him. As they seated for dinner, she compared the two brothers. They were both tall and very handsome, but whereas Mr Edmund Bertram had light-brown hair and blue eyes, his brother had dark brown hair and brown eyes. Miss Price had told her that Mr Tom Bertram was twenty-seven and Mr Edmund Bertram, twenty-five, but Mr Edmund looked the eldest of the two with his kind but solemn face.

She listened to the ongoing conversation between the two brothers while Lady Bertram remained silent, Mrs Traumayn quietly conversed with Mr Maddox and Mrs Fanny Bertram, and Miss Price stopped telling Mary how glad she was that Mary could come and busied herself with the soup.

"Why did Father not come with you, Tom? Did your business trip go well?"

"Do not concern yourself with these dreadful business matters, Edmund. You have much to do with the parsonage" Mr Bertram answered carelessly and, to Mary's ears, a bit dryly.

"Father was tired, so he did not come. But do not worry, you shall receive him soon. This is just a little indisposition. You know how Father easily worries" he reassured his brother .

Mary nearly huffed at the lack of concern the young dandy expressed for his Father's health. The words of Lord Prescott came to her mind _"the troubles brought to Sir Bertram by his eldest…"._ Surely the ways of the young man had not been assuaged over the years, and this explained Sir Bertram's indisposition.

* * *

Mr Bertram was musing over the young woman who had been introduced to him as "Miss Bennet". He had been rather amused to discover that the fierce-tongued young woman who would not ask for his help was this shallow-looking and silent Miss Bennet. She was nothing like the other young women he knew: her dress reminded him of the horrors his meddlesome Aunt Mrs Norris_-thankfully currently_ _abroad_- used to wear shamelessly, and she had refused his help.

The elegant (and somewhat bothersome) young women he knew asked for a gentleman's help every two seconds when they were taking a walk: "_Mr Bertram, I have lost my handkerchief! Can you find it? I think I lost him near this tree? Have you looked under_ _this bush?"_ or "_Mr Bertram, I am sure that I twisted my ankle! I heard something crack! Can you stay with me and hold my hand until the suffering goes away and the doctor arrives? ". _

Well, perhaps it was not so boldly asked, but the young ladies had no qualms using a gentleman's gallantry to be served. In the first case, he amiably searched the bushes with the cane he brought each time a walk was bound to take place; in the second, he offered his services to go and fetch the doctor, but he very firmly refused to sit by a bed of pain, furthermore imaginary.

And he was definitely not used to meet faces as severe as this of Miss Bennet. Her lips were pinched as though she was seeing something in him which disgusted her, and he was pretty sure that she was **_glaring _**at him while he was discussing his father's condition with his brother. What was wrong with this young lady? She looked so dull and modest, but Tom knew better: she had acted like a stubborn mule with more persistence than many ladies of his acquaintance. One thing was certain: he was resolved to avoid her as much as possible.

After dinner, she was seated near his brother –_luckily not himself!-_ and he distinctly heard her ask Edmund:

"Sir, I would like to know your impressions on Fordyce's Sermons."

_Fordyce's Sermons?_ The title itself led him to a deep slumber. This sounded very like this austere lady: her appearance, her glares…He rolled his eyes at the philosophical discussion his brother was indulging himself.

Yes, Miss Bennet was definitely a lady to avoid at all costs. Between looking for lost handkerchiefs and discussing an old bore's sermons, Tom Bertram knew what was the best for him.

* * *

Mary was very glad to talk of what she used to proclaim was her favourite book, but that she had come to consider as terribly, well, narrow-minded. Fordyce's Sermons contained advice to young ladies: how they should behave publicly, what they should believe. Mr Edmund Bertram shared her views:

"This book is way too harsh on your sex, Miss Bennet. A lady shall know how she ought to behave through her education, and above all her conscience- she need not this book to act properly."

Miss Price was looking a little lost:

"Mrs Traumayn, Miss Bennet, we are used to playing a game of whist. Would you like to join? ".

Mrs Bertram said that for herself, she was not a very good player, but she urged her guests to enjoy themselves.

"I am sure that my brother-in-law and Mr Maddox shall see no objection."

Mrs Traumayn declined the offer:

"I am a dreadful player, I am afraid; but perhaps Miss Bennet does play?".

Lady Bertram declined too, and so did her second son; but Mr Bertram was seizing the opportunity to escape the boring duty to entertain his mother, and Mr Maddox was ready to oblige his friend and Miss Price. But there was still one player lacking, Mr Bertram realised.

After his brother, his sister-in-law and Mrs Traumayn's refusal, he asked without much hope:

"Do you play, Miss Bennet? You just need to know the rules, which are quite simple-and we do not expect a perfect strategy from you. Everyone is entitled to mistakes", he said encouragingly.

_The condescension! I shall show him that one can be a good player outside the London's circles!_

"I do play, Mr Bertram" she quietly answered.

"Please, Miss Bennet, be my partner!" Susan exclaimed.

"Tom is so proud of his game, and I must avenge last time's game. He cruelly squashed Fanny and I with Mr Maddox, but it was foul play- Fanny is so kind that she does not play to win! " she added affectionately.

_This reminds me of Jane. Poor dear Jane loses each time she plays too. Well, if Miss Price has a combative spirit, perhaps I have finally found partner who is devoted to the game for once._

"I accept your offer, Miss Price" Mary said seriously.

And the game began. Miss Price had been right: Mr Maddox was an average player, whose nice comments during the game diverted Miss Price's attention as well as his own. Surprisingly, Mr Bertram was as good as Miss Price had claimed him to be, and his regular features showed his concentration. He did reply to his friend's comments, though, but only when necessary, and Mary was forced to admit that he was the best player she had ever met, Mr Hurst excepted.

She was not the only one surprised by her opponent. Mr Bertram was very mortified to see that Miss Bennet held her own very satisfactorily, giving him a hard time. _Since when did bookworms learn to play so ruthlessly?_ But he did not complain much, for he had to uphold his reputation as a gallant gentleman, and like Mary, he had not known such a challenge since he had begun to play in the country for quite a long time.

After a very disputed game, especially between Mr Bertram and Miss Bennet, which even led to Mr Bertram asking his friend to focus on the game- _Miss Bennet did not need to go to such measures, since the very fact that her cousin had to ask for his partner's attention made Miss Price aware that they had a chance to win, which ensued in her energetic nature being entirely devoted to the game_-, Miss Price and Miss Bennet were declared victorious.

Whereas Miss Price thanked her profusely, and the others commented on her ability: "_Upon my word, Miss Bennet, this was very well played!"_ Mr Maddox said, and Mrs Traumayn smiled :"_I see that you are a young lady of more talents than you praise yourself for",_ and Mr Edmund joked: " _My brother shall not recover from this, Miss Bennet"_, Mr Bertram congratulated her, offering the perfect example of the well-bred gentleman who accepts defeat with dignity, although his eyes were a little glazed by the astonishment.

_He had been defeated by a bookworm who read Fordyce's Sermons! His friends from London, and his fashionable brother-in-law Mr Yates, shall never hear of it, or he shall be the laughing stock of the assembly!._ Mr Bertram franctically thought.

Then Mrs Traumayn and Mary had to depart, for it was quite late, but both had been thoroughly enjoying the evening.

* * *

Elizabeth had let Kitty and free to go in Town and to make their little purchases. Kitty was facing excruciating choices, between the hats, the gloves, the beautiful silk she dreamed of to be wrapped around her…but the reality of her allowance made her sigh and choose cute, frivolous but affordable accessories. Seeing her sigh, Georgiana shyly proposed that Kitty borrowed her some money, but Kitty refused:

"No, Georgiana; I can make the most of anything. Some ribbons and I have a whole new hat, a few laces and I have a more elegant dress. But **_you _**could use your allowance for a new dress! You are always very elegant, of course, but you always wear the same colours. You have the means to change and to be more noticed at balls, and I am willing to help you!" she exclaimed.

"Thank you, Kitty, but I do not think that it would be a good idea. I am quite satisfied with the dresses your sister chooses for me, and"

"You mean that Lizzy chooses your dresses?" Kitty asked, incredulous.

"Well, she proposed to help me since I cannot decide when I am at the dressmaker, so it is easier for me. I do not want to go halfway the trouble which comes with a new dress, and your sister has been very kind to do so."

"But Georgiana, I might accept Lizzy's advice, but I never let her choose my dress for me! It is so much fun to consider the colours, the material, and Lizzy deprives you of this entertainment!"

"I asked her to" Georgiana defended her sister-in-law.

"But she shall agree to let you choose yourself if you asked her to?"

"Yes, I suppose, but Kitty, I assure you that I cannot speak my mind when I am at the dressmaker. People are pressing me to hurry and to take a decision, and I find myself with a dress that I dislike. Your sister chooses according to my taste, and I am not certain that I want to change."

"I shall ask Lizzy and we shall do this together, please? I shall help you but your word shall make the trick. Please" Kitty said with irresistible puppy eyes.

This was Georgiana's most important weakness: she could not say "no". And so she agreed to Kitty's scheme, even promising that she would speak to Lizzy about this plan the very evening.

As the two girls were walking down the street, two gentlemen stopped to greet them. Kitty recognized the first one, the Earl of Hampstead, looking a little less bored than his usual self. He introduced them to his friend, a light-brown haired gentleman with expressive dark eyes, as Mr Harding.

Mr Harding bowed and said little, his eyes detailing Georgiana's sweet face with an admiration he did not quite manage to hide. Georgiana said nothing, letting Kitty exchanging the usual "how do you do's" before the Earl, having spotted the predatory Miss Owen and Miss Bingley approaching, excused himself and his friend and after a look at Mr Harding, emitted the wish that they shall meet again, but he had to elbow his friend twice before he snapped out of his silent contemplation and bowed again.

Then, Kitty, having perfectly detected the approach of the two ladies as the cause of the gentlemen's departure- _despite his nonchalance, the Earl had good eyes! It must have been what they call self-preservation, Kitty mused_- took Georgiana's elbow and quickened her pace. A few words whispered at Georgiana's ear – _Miss Bingley is behind us_- were enough to make Georgiana follow Kitty's lead. When properly stimulated, Georgiana was a very fast walker too.

Once they were out of the two ladies' sight, they smiled to each other. Then Kitty teased Georgiana:

"What do you think of Mr Harding? He is a very handsome gentleman."

"He certainly does look so. Why this question, Kitty?"

"I daresay that Mr Harding looked also quite smitten with you, Georgiana. He did not even hear his friend's adieu before the Earl elbowed him."

Georgiana blushed fiercely and exclaimed:

"No, Kitty! This cannot be true!"

Kitty, surprised by Georgiana's reluctance to recognise the young man's obvious admiration, changed the subject. Georgiana was far too modest for her own good, but she would change that.

* * *

A few days later, Georgiana found a letter on her plate for breakfast. Elizabeth spotted it but did not mention it to her sister-in-law. However, Georgiana opened it and said aloud:

"This is from Mary! Lizzy, Kitty, do you want me to read it to you?"

" Mary wrote it to you, Georgiana. We shall not invade your privacy" Elizabeth said gently.

Kitty added _sotto voce_:

"Besides, there is nothing interesting Mary could say! She probably knows nobody and nobody knows her because she is always engrossed in her books!"

Georgiana read Mary's letter:

"Dear Miss Darcy,

I hope that this letter shall find you in good health. Unfortunately, I have not much to tell you, but I hope that the friendship you offered to me shall overlook the mundane facts of my life.

Mrs Traumayn is very kind to me, and the Bennet name fears nothing with her. I try to make myself as useful as I can, for I am very grateful that I have been given this opportunity to discover a new place, new people. And this has worked so far, Miss Darcy, for I have met a very nice girl, Miss Susan Price. I think you should like her. She is not as shy as you and I, and possesses this scarce gift of being always welcoming. She really makes you forget all awkwardness. I wished I could be as lively, but there is always this feeling of self-consciousness which makes me weigh the pros and cons of my actions, and I end up feeling very stiff and uncomfortable. However, I spent a very enjoyable evening yesterday.

We were invited at the parsonage- the parson is Miss Price's cousin, and his wife is her elder sister, both reminding me a lot of Mr Bingley and Jane- and there I played whist and Miss Price and I, who were partnered together, won against Mr Bertram- the elder brother of the parson- and Mr Charles Maddox, a very amiable gentleman. Though I know how petty this victory may appear to you, I had a very good time. It was the first time that most of the people of the assembly did not judge me, there was no ball so I did not ridicule myself by sitting as a wallflower during the whole evening, and I actually enjoyed myself, playing a game I enjoy with worthy opponents. This is a minor thing, I am aware of the fact, but it means much to me. The only gentleman I did not like was Mr Bertram, and I do not say so because he was a valuable adversary, but except for his skill at playing whist, he does not have much to recommend himself. This does not matter, since I want to make friends with Miss Price, and I shall avoid the gentleman's society.

What about you, Miss Darcy? I hope that you enjoy balls and social gatherings more than I do. Kitty does not bother you too much with dresses and ribbons and lace, does she? If you cannot stand her ramblings anymore, threaten to play the piano, and you shall have several hours alone. It used to work by me.

Before I stop writing, please kindly tell me how Lizzy and Kitty are doing. I have written to Jane too so I shall hear of her soon, but I shall not write to Kitty unless she wants me too, which is very unlikely, and I shall wait before writing to Lizzy, for it would be very awkward since our last discussion. (You know why, Miss Darcy, since you heard it).

I have written to Father too- a very short brief, formal, telling him of my whereabouts and asking about his health and Mama's. You are my most reliable correspondent, Miss Darcy. I count on you.

Please give my regards to my sisters. I hope I shall receive a letter from you soon,

Mary Bennet".

Georgiana heard Lizzy's slightly anxious voice:

"How is Mary, Georgiana? Is she well?"

"She is indeed", Georgiana assured her. "She gives her regards and asks of your news, Lizzy, and you too, Kitty."

Kitty looked surprised and answered dismissively:

"Oh, write to her that I am very well and that I enjoy myself quite pleasantly at the balls."

Elizabeth answered quietly:

"Tell her that we are all in good health and that we hope we shall see her soon, once she decides to quit her position."

And thus she left. Georgiana decided on her own accord to write to Mary only the first part of her sister's message.

* * *

**_Author's note:_**

_-first, thanks a lot for your reviews, they really make my day! I would love to read your comments, suggestions..._

_-each time I post a new chapter, I reply to the reviews on my profile and delete the former reviews._

_-**Coming soon: **Mary encouters rather unpleasant ladies, her acquaintance with Susan is at crossroads, and Kitty is bored... _


	12. Chapter 12 Standing up

Summary: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other lessener Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with Mansfield Park.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

**_Author's Note: _**I am truly sorry for not having updated sooner, while you sent me such nice reviews. As some of you may have guessed, I am French and I can't help making mistakes; what bothers me is that some parts of the story have seemed confusing. So I will continue this story, but I need a beta to correct the most glaringly obvious mistakes. So, if someone is interested in beta-ing this story, let me know! And once again, sorry for this delay- I am on vacation right now, so I am already writting the thirteenth chapter to avoid that such a delay occurs anytime soon.

* * *

Georgiana Darcy was thoroughly _not _enjoying her time, but as usual her good- natured soul prevented her from uttering the slightest hint of a reproach.

Kitty had dragged her- very amiably, of course- to the dressmaker, with Lizzy's blessing. Now she was presented with a few very elegant gowns and _she_ had to decide which one she would take. However, without Lizzy's swift guidance on the matter, Georgiana felt utterly lost.

"Is this dress to your taste, Miss Darcy?" the dressmaker repeated, presenting her with another pale pink dress.

It was not that this shop was full of pink dresses, but they knew it was the kind of dresses Georgiana was used to wearing. That was why they did not bother to present her with different shades, unless Lizzy demanded it. But Georgiana, no matter how much she was tired of pink, could never bring herself to cause so much trouble by asking for something else.

However, other people thought otherwise.

"May we see another one? " Kitty's clear choice rang in the shop.

The dressmaker looked baffled and a trifle irritated. She had been so sure that everything would go smoothly with the young Miss Darcy, who was so shy and so afraid of hurting everyone's sensibility that she would have bought rags if she had been presented with it instead of the pretty gowns the dressmaker had selected, pretty enough partly to maintain her reputation, partly because she knew she could not impose on Mrs Darcy, who would not hesitate to send the dress back if it was truly awful.

She glared at Kitty who did not seem to notice:

"I think Miss Darcy should try on another shade. Blue, perhaps? What do you think, Georgiana?".

Blue was Georgiana's favourite colour, Kitty remembered.

"I shall do as Miss Darcy wishes", the dressmaker said, knowing that the young lady was in a terrible position.

Truly Georgiana felt uneasy. Usually, a timid nod was enough to convince Elizabeth that what she had chosen pleased her. Never she dared to voice her opinions in so loud a manner, but she had to, Kitty and the dressmaker were looking expectantly at her.

"I do think that blue is a lovely colour", she admitted almost apologetically.

This admission made Kitty pout a little- the young woman was unconvinced that many people understood this kind of hints. She certainly would not have if she had not known Georgiana.

However, this was enough for the dressmaker to leave, albeit reluctantly and not without sending Kitty another glare, but she came back with a few other dresses, all blue.

Georgiana was lucky enough to find among them a beautiful gown that suited her perfectly. Once they were outside the shop, she asked Kitty:

"How did you know that the first ones did not please me?"

"Your expression of long-suffering when you saw them was easy to read." Kitty laughed.

"You are so bold!" Georgiana sighed somewhat wistfully. "Without you I would never have asked to see another dress."

"I am used to bargaining whenever I go to the dressmaker. I remember my first real argument with Mama- I was sixteen, and she wanted me to wear white at a ball. I insisted to wear lilac, so and so until Mama gives up because of her nerves."

"And you found that lilac suited you?"

"Not at all, it was the most horrid dress I ever wore! But it was the first time I had stood up for myself. I went on after that, whenever it was a serious matter of fashion, until I discovered that peach was the hue the most suited to my complexion, and _voilà_!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

Georgiana smiled in spite of herself.

* * *

_Dear Miss Bennet,_

_I am truly happy that you enjoy yourself in your new surroundings. This Miss Susan Price, as you described her, seemed very nice. I am sure that she would make a good friend. However, if I dare be so bold as to give you some advice, you and I, my dear Mary, are to much alike in our shyness. Our reluctance to be too forward may be held for mere haughtiness and ill-natured pride. I have come to this conclusion for some time, and still I feel the effects of my lack of courage when it comes to offer my friendship. I shall take upon myself to change, but I know that it will take much time and many endeavours to achieve my goal, and I shall consider myself very lucky if my manners are half as frank and open as Elizabeth's some day. Excuse my boldness, my dear Mary, but I feel that I understand you a little. I know that you are worthy of more than you are being praised for. If Miss Price, and others, offer you their friendship, please do not reject them. Do not shut yourself out of the world, dear Mary…" _

Mary came to an halt and folded Georgiana's letter. She had been walking to Mansfield Park with the hope to see Miss Price, but the young lady was standing halfway the very path Mary had taken, a basket safely tucked under an arm.

"Miss Bennet!" she exclaimed, waving vigorously towards Mary's direction.

How she managed to achieve this precarious balance with her heavy basket and her vivaciousness was beyond Mary's understanding.

Susan explained that she was coming back from an errand for her Aunt Bertram, and both walked in a companionable silence until they crossed the path of two elegant young ladies whom Mary was immediately wary of. They were dressed way too extravagantly for a simple walk, with impractical clothes. Mary knew what it meant: she had seen the same endeavours of ornament on her younger sisters whenever they claimed to "go for a walk" with the not-so-secret hope of catching a red coat's eye. Clearly these ladies wanted to be admired by the innocent walkers of the opposite sex, although the very innuendo would make them protest that the refreshing breeze was their only goal.

She also saw Miss Price's frown at the sight.

"Miss Price, I see that you have found yourself a companion. Another poor cousin from Portsmouth whose existence we were not aware of?"

Susan's brown eyes flashed angrily, but she answered in a strained voice:

"Miss Maddox, this is not a parent of mine, but Miss Mary Bennet. Miss Bennet, this is Miss Clara Maddox, the second younger sister of Mr Maddox, whom you have already met."

"Miss Bennet? " Clara Maddox eyed Mary distastefully." I do not know your family. But I did not have the honour to know of the Prices' existence either, before the arrival of Miss Susan here. Her elder sister is more of a Bertram, but Miss Susan's education reminds us of the Prices."

At these words, Susan bit her lip, and Miss Clara Maddox laughed, followed by her friends. The other young lady, known as Miss Prescott, taunted Susan again:

"Mr Bertram is very lucky that this new addition to your little circle is not another parent of his, for it is his inheritance which is spent for the care of all the Prices from this country. Even Mrs Yates had to bear the presence of your elder brother while in London. How a poor Navy Lieutenant, with a simple soul, might enjoy the delicacies of the London's life?".

"London offers a range of pleasures wide enough to please Mr Price, I am sure. London shines as a beacon of light for everyone to see, and I do not understand why we shall underestimate its capacity to satisfy the taste of people with different education and interests."

Miss Prescott huffed:

"It takes much more than hearsay to be able to judge of London's value, Miss Bennet. You probably do come from the country, don't you?"

"I do" Mary placidly replied, "but I spent a few weeks in London at my sister's."

Something changed almost instantly in the two ladies' demeanours. With more respect in her voice, Miss Maddox asked:

"You do have a sister, who owns a house in London?"

Mary was not fooled by this question- they wanted to probe her social status, and she despised them the more for it. However, she curtly answered:

"My two elder sisters do own a house in London."

Disbelief etched on the features of Miss Maddox and Miss Prescott, the latter whispering to herself: "but with those clothes!"

Miss Clara smiled graciously at Mary:

"Well, clearly your status make your worthy of the finest company that can be found here. Your association with Miss Price was not very well-advised, but let us introduce you to the most important families of the region. We do have this power, unlike Miss Price who does not run in the same circles. Do join us in our walk, Miss Bennet."

Susan was keeping her eyes downcast, and Mary felt her blood boil. How dared they treat Miss Price with such disdain, just because she was poor and depending on her uncle's charity!

The same fate was perhaps in store for herself…

Coldly, she answered:

"Miss Price is hardly an outcast. She is parent of the Bertrams, and shall be treated as such. I cannot join you in your walk, for I have promised Miss Price I shall come with her to Mansfield Park. We shall depart now, or we shall be running late."

She curtsied and hurried up towards the safety of Mansfield. Susan did the same, leaving two stunned ladies in their wake.

Susan was the first to breach the silence:

"It was very kind of you to stand up for me, Miss Bennet. I cannot express how much it means to me, but won't you regret their offer?"

"How could I have regrets? They had no rights to speak to you in such a derogatory manner! No one should be exposed to such malevolent words."

"They are right, though. I am ignorant of many things young ladies must know. My elder sister- Mrs Bertram- was taken out of our home when she was eleven. I spent the fourteen first years of my life without the perks of a thorough education. No matter how hard I try, I do not feel the need of a book during my spare time. Fanny had tried to teach me, but she is married now, busy with other pressing matters. She has no time to further my education. I feel a little silly" she laughed "since I used to ignore the jibes of others at Portsmouth, but here I feel out of place and ashamed whenever I must display my knowledge and good manners."

"Miss Price, you do not have to be ashamed of the unfortunate circumstances which have led you to neglect your education. There is always time for improving oneself. Many ladies who declare themselves accomplished are still in need of improvements. This is what is so valuable with books: we shall never read all of them, so we just have one lifetime to make the most of it and extend our knowledge."

"Would you teach me?" Miss Price suddenly asked.

"Teach you?" Mary repeated, unsure of Mis Price's meaning.

"You are cultivated- an erudite. I heard Mrs Traumayn joke about your stacks of books and your thirst for knowledge during the evening at the parsonage. If you could spare some time, during your visits, to teach me as Fanny used to, in History or Literature…" she blushed, "but it is too bold of me."

"No, no- you misunderstood my silence. This is the first time someone actually asked me to teach them." Mary stammered.

How many times had she dreamt of a moment like this! She had always wanted to share her reflections and her dear companions- there was no satisfaction in keeping egoistically one's books for oneself. But how many times had she been rebuked when she had offered with fresh enthusiasm her thoughts and opinions after having embraced one author's thoughts! She had even considered to offer her services as a governess before Mrs Traumayn offered her the position of a companion.

"I shall be delighted- I have some very interesting books on the History of England…"

* * *

Kitty stifled a yawn. She certainly never thought that she would see the day when a ball should appear boring to her, but this was the case. No, she was not sick, although she had entertained the thought to explain her state. No, she still knew how to appreciate balls, and this was not the result of an excess of good things. However, the absence of many young and elegant gentlemen made Kitty sit three dances in a row- one more time, and she would be a wallflower like Mary! She expressed her dissatisfaction to Georgiana, but her friend was content with her sitting position, admiring her brother who was dancing with his wife with the hint of a smile on his lips.

This was a lovely picture, Kitty had to admit, but this did not lift her spirits. She suddenly wanted her own Mr Darcy to take her in his arms and smile so subtly at her that only her would notice and understand its meaning…

Then, she was asked to dance by a young man. She gladly accepted, only to be disappointed when he proved himself to lack conversation and good looks. If he had been more handsome, perhaps Kitty would have forgiven him the first offence, but as he was neither handsome nor a great conversationalist, she was ready to leave him on the spot as soon as the next dance began.

It was a lovely tune, which made her want to bounce and dance laughingly, but there was no gentleman to ask her…

Her bright, excited eyes met clear brown ones alight with the same refrained merriment. A young man, not quite handsome but very near it with his open, frank face and genuine smile, came to her- he was indeed coming after having caught her eyes!

He offered her to dance, with a lack of superficial formality that made her rejoice. It reminded her a little of the _impromptu _balls organised at her Aunt Phillips', with a few violins, much punch and only youthful merriment among the assembly.

Her wide smile gave her answer well before the formal acceptation of his offer. They both danced, and she discovered with pleasure that he was a good dancer, full of energy and gaiety.

"I am sorry I did not introduce myself properly, but the music had already begun. We did not have much time for these formalities" he smiled in an engaging manner.

"Indeed", Kitty cried, "you have done well, for I was very distressed at the idea of not dancing this round!"

"I had gathered as much from your eyes. They are very expressive ones".

"Is this a compliment, Sir?" Kitty asked cheekily.

"Your merriment is an agreeable change. The other ladies here are very elegant, but they would die rather than to admit that they have had good time. They would ramble on and on about the ornaments, the gowns of the other ladies, who was here and who was not," he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"But on the introductions, let me repair my neglect: I am William Price, Lieutenant in the Navy." he bowed.

A Lieutenant! In the Navy! Kitty felt her happiness complete.

* * *

Georgiana had taken well Kitty's desertion. Her friend deserved to enjoy herself, and Georgiana did not felt any envy towards the others who were animatedly dancing.

"Miss Darcy?"

She turned her head so quickly that her neck almost snapped.

In front of her stood a distressed Mr Harding:

"I do apologise, I did not want to scare you."

Georgina simply nodded mutely.

"May I request the pleasure of a dance, Miss Darcy?"

The earnest look in his eyes made her heart flutter a little as she accepted in a few words. Then, as they were silently moving with the music, the troublesome flutters occurred once in a while, but she stubbornly blamed them on the traitorous violins.

* * *

**_Coming soon:_**

****-_Mary experiences the difficulty of teaching, Kitty and Georgiana are being sought after- or is it the other way around?_


	13. A few blushes and a godmother's advice

**Summary:** Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other lessener Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

Thanks to **Maelys, Liselot** and **June W** for their nice reviews! By the way, I am still looking for a beta…

* * *

"Sanders!" 

The Earl of Hampstead was fiercely scowling at a pile of letters. Lost in his glaring, he did not react at the call of his friend.

"Sanders!" Harding insisted.

Still no reaction, but the glare intensified at a new letter.

"Lawrence!" Hadrian Harding finally exploded.

The Earl did not lift his eyes, but he grunted:

"Hadrian, you do know that it is not the good time for anybody to speak to me-and this has to include you."

"Lawrence, I would leave you alone if I had another confident at my disposal right now, but Harrison is out, and I really need a friend's advice."

"Harrison is a good soul, but if the matter is serious, I would not rely on his counseling. Well, how pressing is the matter?" the Earl deigned to ask.

"My friend, I am in danger." Harding blurted out.

With a sigh, the Earl inquired:

"Would you care to give me some details? What is the nature of that danger?"

"Do you remember Miss Darcy? We first met her in company of a Miss Bennet. I had just arrived in town, and we were on our way to visit Harrison."

Hampstead stifled a groan. He was vaguely suspicious of the direction of his friends' thoughts, and he did not like it at all. After the brief encounter Harding was referring to, he had to spend the following ten minutes listening to an exalted praise of Miss Darcy's natural grace. Then Harding had been his usual self again, to the Earl's great satisfaction. However, there had been this ball. In the fire of a discussion with Harrison and Harding, the latter had suddenly become quiet, and then had barely taken the time to excuse himself before he made a bee line to ask Miss Darcy, whom he had obviously spotted a few seconds before, for the next dance.

"I could not help myself. As soon as I saw her, standing alone, deserted by everyone and still shining modestly…."

_Good heaven, he could not take it much longer_, the Earl thought with utter dismay.

"I had to be near her, to look into those beautiful eyes which speak volumes. We only shared a dance, but I need to see her again, Lawrence. I am in danger of falling in love, and I am afraid I see no objection to it." Harding said determinedly.

The Earl choked:

"You are ready to fall in love? Harding, what is happening to you? Did you forget how pernicious women are?"

He took the letters and waved them:

"Look at these! All bills, Harding! I have to pay them for a magnificent specimen of these troublesome creatures! Every man admires her, but I am the one who knows how much it costs me! More than ten shillings a yard for her dresses, because women are frivolous and expect us to spoil them till our ruin!"

"How can you compare a sweet lady like Miss Darcy with your sister?" Harding protested.

This was not very flattering to Miss Sanders, but the Earl was clearly not offended.

"Women can very well fake modesty. This is their privilege, while men can fake sincerity. However, I have no ready opinion on Miss Darcy yet. You say that she is modest and virtuous."

"Nobody in their right mind could doubt it!" Harding exclaimed with fire.

"I do not trust your judgment. Your words on her are the words of a man who has already begun to think like a fool. Before you cross the line and actually begin to act like one, please hear my sound advice. Avoid this lady at all cost!".

"Lawrence" Harding exclaimed, but his friend did not let him end his sentence.

"You might be interested to learn that Rickman is in town." the Earl let out nonchalantly.

Harding went instantly very still. Then, in a low voice:

"I do not see to what extent this news is related to Miss Darcy."

"Before you entertain any plan of seeing this young lady more often at the expense of believing yourself in love and awkwardly trying to woo her, I shall just say this: she has a brother."

"I know" Harding replied, mildly irritated.

"Have you met him yet?"

"I haven't had this pleasure yet; why?"

"Mr Darcy is said to be quite the overbearing brother, and truthfully he does have the looks of his part. Be cautious with the naive Miss Darcy: his brother shall not be handled as easily as Rickman."

"I have been quite successful in my early attempts to avoid any confrontation with Rickman, and I tell you, Lawrence, there will be no harm done with Miss Darcy. There _can _be no harm done with her. I shall make sure of that." Harding said with such determination etched over his features that the Earl could do nothing but sigh hopelessly at the foolishness of his friend.

* * *

Kitty was gaily humming as Georgiana was working on her sketches. Elizabeth, who was coming their way, cringed ever so slightly at the enthusiastic off-key notes delivered by her young sister. What was with the Bennet ladies and their musical abilities, she mused. 

"This is a lovely representation of the ball, Georgiana."

"Thank you, Lizzie." Georgiana accepted the compliment and returned to the figures of the dancers.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night? I am afraid that we lost the sight of you at some point of the ball."

"You shall not worry about Georgiana" Kitty cried. "She was invited to dance by a very fine gentleman, a friend of the Earl of Hampstead."

Georgiana blushed fiercely:

"He was merely being kind, Kitty."

"Kindness?" Kitty laughed. "His eyes did not say so. You presume too much of the gentleman's generosity. Had you been cold and severe like Mary, and half less beautiful than you are, he would not have rushed by your side as soon as he saw you."

Georgiana turned helplessly towards Elizabeth, but since the latter was already quite inclined to share Kitty's views, and did not object to the gentle teasing of her too shy sister-in-law, she took upon herself to object Kitty's fantasies:

"Mr Harding was very polite, and that is all. Please do not joke with so serious a matter."

"He was looking forward your company. Remember our first meeting with him; how he could not utter a single word, so busy he was to look at you! And last night, his behavior showed it so clearly: he is quite taken with you!"

"How can you tell?" Georgiana protested.

"His eyes" Kitty said in a sing-song voice.

"There was nothing wrong with them" Georgiana muttered, puzzled.

Kitty sighed exasperatedly:

"He was looking at you the way Mr Darcy looks at our Lizzy when he thinks nobody is watching."

This time, Elizabeth was the one blushing.

"I do envy you, Lizzy. When you first told us that you were going to marry Mr Darcy, we all thought that you had lost your mind- he looked so arrogant and conceited whenever he came to Longbourne" Kitty added for the benefit of Georgiana, who had gasped at the mention of her brother being other than nice and considerate towards everyone. "But now, I do understand you, Lizzy. He does really love you, and he does not look so terrifying once you get to know him- even though I am quite sure that Mr Bingley shall remain the better listener of the two. Besides, I do have to admit that despite all his pride, he is the most handsome man I have ever met, and you shall not contradict me, will you, Lizzy? " she teased.

And three people blushed: Elizabeth, for the very mention of the remote times during which she had been so prejudiced towards her husband never failed to embarrass her; Georgiana, because thinking that any man, let alone her brother, might be attractive, was clearly not her forte; and then, the very object of Kitty's admiration, Mr Darcy himself, who had inadvertently eavesdropped the last part of the conversation and was quite surprised by the good opinion his frivolous sister-in-law had of him.

As lunch was served, the conversation was dropped, to the relief of everyone but Kitty.

* * *

Mary was upset. So she did one of the few things in the world that brought her relief. 

She played the piano.

Her attempts at teaching History to Susan, resuming the lessons Mrs Bertram had given to her young sister before she married Mr Edmund, had sadly failed. Susan had begged her pardon for having been on the brink of dozing more than a few times, and having been unsuccessful in concealing her lack of attention.

"Miss Mary, I am so sorry! I think that I was not made for studying- I cannot listen to all these events and remember it all. I just can't find it thrilling. I am sorry, it was a bad idea."

Very upset inside but indifferent on the outside, Mary had just answered, in a tight voice that _"really, it was nothing…She forgave Miss Price, of course",_ before running away.

Like she always did.

Why did she fail everything she undertook? Why could not she share her passion with others?

And why did this beautiful song resist her so much? She was trying to reach the high notes, but her frail voice broke in the middle of the partition. She could not reach them, no matter how hard she was trying. She just could not.

She sat defeated; her hands limp on her lap, the pianoforte in front of her, and the taunting partition under her very eyes.

"Miss Bennet?"

Mrs Traumayn had heard her awful performance. Now she knew too, that Mary Bennet was a failure.

"I used to take singing lessons" Mrs Traumayn began conversationally. "You could not have made me play with such virtuosity as yours, but I could sing, very agreeably, or so my friends said" she added in a smile, mimicking Mrs Elton.

"I was curious, Miss Bennet, that you chose such a song."

"It is beautiful, but my expectations were too high for my talent" Mary sighed.

"Well, this was not the reason I was puzzled by your choice. You see, my dear, this song is meant for coloraturas sopranos. You do have the voice of a soprano, but not of a coloratura. This is not quite the same."

"But I should have the means of becoming one" Mary said hopefully.

Mrs Traumayn's blue eyes looked at her strangely:

"Why trying so hard to be someone else, Miss Bennet?"

Mary did not have any ready answer. Mrs Traumayn went on:

"Your voice is too weak. With a better position- you back is straight, but lift your chin" and Mary did as she was told; "Hold your head high. Breathe! With more conviction! You ought to be shining with confidence!" Mary tried to protest, but Mrs Traumayn woud have none of it.

The air filled her lungs, but the hardest part was to hold her head high.

A mirror on the wall reflected another Mary, looking both defiant and not modest enough to Mary's taste.

Mrs Traumayn's words sounded eerily:

"The world is waiting for you to perform your part adequately, and this is what you shall do, Miss Bennet."

_This sentence sounded like something a fairy godmother would promise, Mary mused_.

"I do not understand, Mrs Traumayn. Nobody is waiting for me outside" Mary frowned at her reflection.

" Do you want them to?" Mrs Traumayn replied.

Mary did not answer.

* * *

"Why did you insist that we came to the park, Kitty? " Elizabeth asked suspiciously. 

Her sister's candid smile did nothing to erase her doubts. Georgiana was quietly following, but the way her eyes suddenly widened in recognition at the sight of a young man in a Navy Lieutenant uniform confirmed Elizabeth's suspicions.

The young Lieutenant came to present his respects. Elizabeth took in his youth, his energy and his honest manners before eyeing her sister. This latter offered the young Lieutenant Price a smile so bright that he was afraid it might temporarily blind him.

"What a coincidence!" Kitty exclaimed in perfect innocence.

_Kitty had the same talent as their mother to name" coincidences" the carefully planned traps set to catch a husband_, Elizabeth thought dryly.

"I told you last night that I enjoyed taking a walk while I still could", the young man answered, clearly amused.

"Then it is a shame that it slipped my mind, but thankfully we are here and we meet again" Kitty replied charmingly.

Elizabeth gave a little cough, reminding Kitty that her sister disapproved of blatant attempts at flirting.

"We do not want to delay you, Lieutenant. We shall let you resume your walk now" Elizabeth began.

"I am free and entirely at your disposal, if I may come with you" William Price offered with such a frank smile that Elizabeth could not turn him down.

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**

_**-**suggestions, remarks...I'll be glad to know what you think!_

_**-**I still think that I really need a beta, but since I can't find one, I'm afraid you'll have to bear with my English!_

_-I know the story progresses slowly, please bear with me!_

_-**Coming soon:**_

-next chapter will be entitled "Because of rain" (after a song I love by Ella Fitzgerald): romance and gossip await our Londonian girls, and Mary begins to find some answers...


	14. Because of rain

**Summary:** Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other lessener Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters. I also shall borrow Shakespeare's quotes from time to time.

I guess I shall drop my own quest for a beta, since no one is interested by the position. So once again, excuse my mistakes!

I would like to thank all the readers of this story, and for their nice reviews: **Requiem for a Sunburst, Rocksey, Miss Laura, ixi-shaz & June W!**

Since it really isn't practical to do it on my profile, I have opened a forum to reply to your reviews, so from now on you will be able to read my answers- and to ask questions or make suggestions if you wish to- on it!

Then again, thanks to the readers for still following this story, and especially the reviewers. You really keep me going when I am afraid I may drop the story altogether. I post this chapter since I feel I really owe it to you for bearing with my awful updates (it results in my being late for the updates of my other stories, but for once TODQ will not be sacrificed).

* * *

Elizabeth repressed a heavy sigh and folded the latest letter her mother had sent her. As usual, Mrs Bennet had strongly urged her daughter to make a list of all the eligible bachelors in Town who might be interested in finding a young and pretty wife, regardless of her dowry, and this she had done in a manner that could be at best described as straightforward. _Things were moving too slowly, how come Kitty had not found a suitor yet_, was her mother's main concern.

Elizabeth's eyes rested on her young sister, who was chatting animatedly with Georgiana. Kitty was indeed a pretty girl, and Elizabeth knew that her heart was in the right place, but she feared her inexperience. Now that Lydia's bad influence was no more, Kitty was improving herself, showing self-restraint on a regular basis, but Georgiana's influence was not strong enough to make Kitty entirely confide in her. Elizabeth had viewed with satisfaction Kitty learning to be less selfish and more considerate towards others, but quickly she had realized that Kitty's generosity only applied to Georgiana, for who could not love her sweet sister-in-law?

Kitty was still lacking prudence and compassion, and for that Elizabeth worried about her prospects of matrimony. To flirt as Kitty did, with no afterthoughts, was likely to tarnish her reputation. Moreover, Elizabeth was grateful that Kitty's heart had not been stolen by any of the officers she was so keen on admiring, but when the time should come for her little sister to love sincerely, there was no guarantee that she would make the right choice. Elizabeth herself, despite her sound judgment, had been deceived by Wickham's charming, honest-like manners. Only the persistence of Darcy had gradually made her understand that he was the perfect match for her. She had been blessed with his love, but would her perky sister benefit from such lucky circumstances?

There was also the matter of Georgiana. Soon, she would have to overcome her shyness to meet eligible gentlemen. Elizabeth knew that her husband would make sure of frightening the men he deemed unfit for his beloved sister, but she was the one in whom Georgiana would be more likely to rely on. In spite of all her bravery, Elizabeth could not but feel a mite weak-hearted at the thought that she should be the one to provide two inexperienced and very vulnerable young women with motherly guidance on the matters of the heart, matters which were very perilous indeed.

* * *

At the same time, a discussion was taking a melodramatic turn:

"Sanders, I need your help."

"This is quite out of the question, Harding."

"But you are able to introduce me to the Darcys. Without introduction, I shall not be able to improve my acquaintance with _her._ I must know if this is just a passing whim, easily forgettable, or something else."

"No! I refuse to be your accomplice in this insane design! I am done with the young ladies of your acquaintance and their sufferings from heartache! Do you know that Rickman scowls at me whenever we meet, on the sole pretense that I am your friend?"

"Miss Darcy…" Harding began.

"…is a perfect and accomplished young lady, like this one you used to know intimately. Be careful with her. Her brother shall not be lenient if he ever learns what happened from Rickman."

"Rickman may try and fail to spoil my reputation, he is too proud to let anyone know of the story. I fear nothing from him. His innuendos cannot lead him far." Harding said confidently.

The Earl frowned:

"Some people will understand that your quarrel is a serious one. After all, you used to be best friends."

"Do you blame me for what I did?" Harding coldly asked.

The Earl shrugged:

"I still have my reservations about your behavior, but you did nothing wrong. Rickman has been a fool to take offence of your…"

"Let us not talk about this. I shall successfully avoid Rickman, and you shall help me to see Miss Darcy as soon as I can and as often as possible."

"Is that all?" the Earl asked ironically.

"For the moment, it is" Harding answered with a sly smile that had been too scarce lately, so his friend bit back his reply on the sweetest ladies on the outside who were the most poisonous on the inside. Something told him that Harding would not have appreciated.

* * *

At Lord Glowner's house, an often-rehashed debate was taking place. 

"I know that we have already discussed it, but it is my duty, as a friend, to insist" poor John Harrison said. Despite his obvious uneasiness, he was determined to carry on.

"This is not in my habit to complain, but my position is very uncomfortable. I am friends with both of you" he nodded towards Lord Glowner and Mr Rickman, "but I am also friends with Hampstead and Harding. I know nothing about your dispute, but whatever happened, can surely be mended."

"It cannot" Peter Rickman said in a low voice. "Believe me, Harrison, when I say that any remains of friendship that might have existed between Harding and I are no more."

"I do not understand. A year ago, I left for two months, and all of us were the best friends of the world. When I came back, our group was divided in two! Harding and you, Rickman, used to be inseparable, and now Sanders has become his only confident! Besides, you are urging me to sever all ties with them, when I do not even know what happened in the first place!" he stopped, running out of oxygen.

Peter Rickman did not answer instantly. Then, quietly but with such repressed anger that Harrison startled:

"All I can tell you, John, is that Harding is the most hypocritical scoundrel of England, and were I free to do so, I would gladly expose him publicly as the man without honor that he is. Now, will you excuse me" and he left the room.

Harrison glanced at Lord Glowner who had remained silent:

"You do know what happened, don't you?" he said in an accusatory tone.

Lord Glowner did not deny it.

"He came to me in great distress and told me all. He made me swear secrecy. You are not in the confidence, Harrison, since only four people in the world know about it: Rickman, Harding, myself."

"And Sanders? Is the fourth who knows?"

"He never liked me, so when I sided with Rickman, he childishly decided to believe Harding's lies. No, I give him too much credit to have remained Harding's friend while knowing the truth all along." Lord Glowner said somberly.

"Then who…?" Harrison began, but Lord Glowner cut him off:

"A person whom I cannot mention, John. I know this is hard for you, but you must understand that there is one man, who we formerly called our friend, who betrayed one of us, and still manages to carry on the deception without shame."

"Harding…I cannot believe it! There must be a misunderstanding!" Harrison exclaimed.

"No misunderstanding, but a great deception, and a greater deceiver." Lord Glowner gravely corrected.

* * *

Mary had made up her mind. Susan Price had offered her friendship. After Miss Darcy, she had been the first to see beyond Mary's cold exterior, and not let her alone. Regardless of the bad experience of the day before, Mary did not want to give up so precious and so rare a friendship. 

Once she had accomplished her menial tasks for the day, she put on a jacket and went to Mansfield Park.

She was more used to remaining indoors, but there was no way Susan could escape her duties for Lady Bertram, who was a nice but indolent woman. Lady Bertram believed herself lost without Susan's assistance, so the young girl had to stay by her aunt's side all day. Mary had to walk to Mansfield.

Dark clouds were forming in the sky. The atmosphere was suffocating and Mary walked faster, suddenly dreading a rainfall. Unfortunately, by the time she got to Mansfield, she was soaked to the bones. Humiliated, she avoided the eyes of the butler who had opened the door, though nothing in his demeanor indicated that he had noticed her pitiful state. Instead, he led her to a beautiful room where a nice fire was burning, and begged her to wait for Miss Price, who had been sent on an errand half an hour ago, while he was on his way to inform someone of her arrival. He fled before Mary could utter that there was no need to trouble anyone, and that she would gladly wait for Miss Price alone.

Sighing, she carefully put her hands over the flames, afraid that her soaked clothes might ruin the carpet. Her eyes took in the fine intricacies of the woolen carpet, the wooden bookshelves.

_Wait! The wooden __bookshelves? _

She took a few steps backward, turning slowly on herself to have a better view of the circular library. She forgot the violence of the raindrops, which vanished into thin air to be replaced with a slight humming. The warmth of the fire had dried her hands, but her dress was still wet. However, Mary could not care less as she made a bee line towards the tantalizing shelves.

She delicately let her fingers linger on the titles. Not only was the library well furnished, but she could actually feel that the books had been read over and over, and loved, as strange as it might sound. She noticed that a whole corner was dedicated to the Bard's works, and a bright smile that she could not repress lit her face as she stumbled upon her favorite play. There were there copies of it, all in rare editions. Not a single speck of dust on these- someone, perhaps Sir Thomas Bertram, Lady's Bertram husband, must dote on them.

This was the moment Mary Bennet experienced love at first sight…with the library of Mansfield Park. She had already visited countless libraries of course, including her brother-in-laws', but none could compare with this little wonder, not even Mr. Darcy's well-organized bookshelves.

"Miss Bennet lost in raptures in front of the bookshelves, what a surprise!" the voice of Mr Bertram startled her.

She turned and there he was, standing with a grin. However, Mary was not to be teased:

"Mr Bertram", she said, curtsying in a very prim and proper manner.

He bowed with ease, reminding her of her awkwardness in public. _Looking like a drowning_ _rat was not helping either_, she realized with a start.

The gentleman frowned:

"Do you want to die of hypothermia? Why did not you stay near the fire? Well, never mind " he added after a knowing glance at the bookshelves. "You need warm clothes- I shall ask Smith to do the necessary" he said.

"It is done, Sir" the butler answered, coming diligently with warm shawls and blankets.

"I do not want to cause any trouble" Mary protested, but the concern had already worn off Mr. Bertram's features as he gaily replied:

"Nonsense! Smith, bring a grog to Miss Bertram."

"Yes, Sir."

"I am not thirsty! I am absolutely fine! You ought not to go through such trouble for me" Mary exclaimed agitatedly.

Tom Bertram looked at the stubborn girl and repressed the urge to sigh. She was not making his task easy, but he would fulfill his duty as a host- another duty he used to neglect- no matter how much it cost him to "entertain" his visitor.

"Smith? Make it two grogs, thank you".

Well, he was quite sure that _he _was going to need one.

* * *

Lord Glowner and the Earl of Hampstead might dislike each other, but there was one matter on which they readily agreed. 

One may not be coward, and still run away- with as much dignity as one could muster, of course- whenever Miss Bingley and Miss Owen were in view.

Slightly flushed from his close escape, Lord Glowner retrieved his gloves and fanned himself. Mr. Harrison, who had accompanied him and was not in such danger from these ladies, had run with him out of solidarity.

"There would be a way for you to definitely get rid of them" Harrison laughed.

"Which one?" Lord Glowner snapped, for he was in no mood for a joke.

"Enter the state of matrimony, and relinquish your title of "the second most eligible bachelor in Town" Harrison laughed good-naturedly.

"To get married! Heaven forbid!" Lord Glowner cried.

Mr. Harrison, who was admittedly a born gossiper, undertook to report what he had heard himself by the grapevine:

"They say that you might be interested in a young lady, after the ball we attended yesterday."

"This is what they always say", Lord Glowner snarled. "Rumours, rumours, John. Whenever they claim a perfect stranger might become Lady Glowner, they are disgruntled two days later. Who is the lucky lady I am supposed to marry this time?"

"This time, they might have guessed right."

"Since when do you believe that I may someday tie the knot?" Lord Glowner asked, amused.

"Since we met Miss Bennet."

"This gloomy, hideous lady who is inexplicably sister to Mrs Darcy and Mrs Bingley? I only met her once and this was good enough for me!" the lord cried. "Didn't you see the nerve of this child- what, with her not being twenty yet- who dared to criticize my driving and belittle me, then saying primly that _I_ was being forgiven by her! I heard that she has returned to her country of Longbourne, and I say good riddance!" he said defiantly.

"Well, I was actually talking about the other remaining Miss Bennet, Miss Catherine, and no Miss Mary Bennet" Harrison replied, quite taken aback by the outburst of Lord Glowner. "However, Miss Mary Bennet seemed to have made quite an impression on you" he joked.

Lord Glowner reverted to his proud and indifferent composure:

"I only remember her as one of the most insufferable young lady I have ever met. Despite her subdued exterior, she is already quite the bitter and spiteful spinster she shall become in a few years."

"No, no, do not say such a thing. If this is to be, though I do not wish it to the poor lady, she deserves our pity" Harrison chided softly.

"No, John- I do pity the unfortunate gentlemen who shall cross her path. She does not look like a rose, but she certainly has its thorns" Lord Glowner replied with finality.

* * *

Blankets and shawls draped around her wet clothes, Mary had regretfully left the company of the books to sit on the sofa. Her strained silence was beginning to get on the nerves of Mr. Bertram who valiantly tried to strike up a conversation: 

"So you do enjoy reading, Miss Bennet?" he asked pleasantly, stating the obvious.

"I most certainly do, Mr. Bertram. Your father owns a magnificent library" Mary replied quietly, not to be outdone.

"Yes, he does", Mr. Bertram nodded appreciatively. "The room itself is too large, though; one might use half of its width to create a billiard room."

Mary let out a gasp of horror which reminded Mr. Bertram of the reaction of his father when he had issued the blasphemous proposal.

"Why would anyone destroy such a wonderful place to have a billiard room?" she blurted out.

Her distress greatly amused Mr. Bertram. Being the teasing type, he was tempted to let her fret a few minutes more, but her frazzled appearance softened his heart and he decided not to torment the poor girl unnecessarily. He would get his revenge at their next game of whist, for though he intended to avoid her company as often as possible, he was not a man to scorn such a precious opponent.

"You may rest in peace, Miss Bennet. My father has so strongly objected to the transformation of this room that it is very unlikely that a billiard may be put in it any time soon. Unless the future Mrs. Bertram supports my scheme." he added with a rakish grin.

"Then my dearest wish is that either you marry a sensible lady, or you remain single for the rest of your days" Mary cried before she could help it.

Mr. Bertram's eyebrows rose at this outburst:

"_Marrying a sensible lady? Presented with this, I must say that eternal celibacy is very tempting."_ he muttered to himself.

"Well, I shall mark your wishes, Miss Bennet. I must admit that I dearly love this room as well, so don't think too ill of me", he said aloud.

"Certainly, this is a very agreeable room. The wooden bookshelves are beautiful", Mary admitted.

"I was referring to the content of the bookshelves as well, Miss Bennet. I am not as illiterate as you seem to believe" Mr. Bertram joked, though a mite annoyed.

"This was not what I was implying, Mr. Bertram. I had only assumed that you were more interested in the usual pastimes of the other young men of your age: hunting, riding" she trailed off; unsure of the way she could end her sentence without hurting Mr. Bertram's pride.

She had put him in the same category as the other young gentlemen she had had the opportunity to meet, for she was keen on studying characters. For instance, she was quite sure that he had a bit of, say, William Lucas- Charlotte Collins' younger brother- in him. Young Mr. Lucas enjoyed good wine, hunting, and, would he have the means of it, gambling, as he had so often claimed to whoever was intent on listening.

Mr. Bertram replied briskly:

"I used to enjoy these pastimes, and I still do, but I am not averse to reading a good play once in a while, Miss Bennet."

"You do?" Mary asked, bemused.

Mr. Bertram livened up all of a sudden:

"Theater is my passion. The world is a stage" he quoted. "We all play the part that has been assigned to us, Miss Bennet, in front of a demanding audience. Theater is but the reflection of our lives- a distorted, exaggerated one, but there is more truth in the extreme characters it portrays than in our real selves."

"It seems that we do have something in common, after all" Mary mused aloud reluctantly.

"I beg to differ, Miss Bennet. You do know the old debate, don't you?" Mr. Bertram asked rhetorically.

"Are you referring to the "comedy versus tragedy" controversy, Mr. Bertram?" Mary answered.

"Indeed I am. But I will not do you the offence of asking you to which camp you belong, Miss Bennet. Like my sisters, you must have granted your preference to tragedy." he said confidently.

_Everything in Miss Bennet's composed demeanor was screaming tragedy, so he had no merit for his guess_, Tom Bertram thought.

It was Mary's turn to raise discretely one eyebrow.

"Well, it brings me relief to know that I am not the only one who may be blinded by prejudice" she said smugly.

_Smugly? __She must have unknowingly picked it from Mr. Bertram_, Mary surprised herself.

"I would be mistaken then? No, no" he cried- "you cannot make me believe that your favor comedy over tragedy".

"Why not, Mr. Betram? I can enjoy tragedies, but comedies are instructive as well. Indeed, when one is interested in the study of characters, one is copiously provided with it in comedies."

"Oh, I see. So comedies exist for our instruction. What about entertainment, escapism?" he asked. "What about adventure, burlesque, profligacy? The first lesson that comedy teaches us is about enjoying life- laughing too" he added with a roguish smile. "If you dote on comedy so much, Miss Bennet, then why- if you do not mind my asking- why the heavy brow?" he concluded dramatically.

"I may not be expressing so overtly my happiness, but this does not mean I am miserable!" Mary exclaimed with a tinge of irritation.

"Of course, Miss Bennet. I never suggested that you were miserable; I was merely expressing my lingering doubts about your giving your preference to comedy over tragedy" Mr. Bertram smirked.

"Do you doubt my word, Mr. Bertram?"

"You did doubt mine when I assured you of my passion for theater."

"Well, when one proposes to turn this library into a billiard room, I cannot be blamed to doubt his love for books".

"Miss Bennet, this room is large enough to host both a library and a billiard room. Think of all the space wasted by these lines of empty bookshelves" he showed her the vacant shelves. "This place is no sanctuary, you know" he joked.

Mary's glower made him realize his mistake. How strange, the way he could feel her glaring daggers at him. Her grey eyes were very expressive, if you looked at them with attention, he pondered. But Tom Betram did not want to consider these very puzzling eyes, for they made him truly uneasy.

"I would say that these empty bookshelves are yours to fill. There is nothing more precious in the world that a family library, and this room you should leave as it is now." Mary asserted firmly.

Then, remembering that Mr. Bertram was her host, she said, confused:

"Well, pardon my bluntness. You are of course free to arrange this room to your liking…but it would be such a shame!" she could not help but heartily add.

"I shall keep it in mind" he answered.

"Miss Bennet, there you are!" Susan stormed into the room. "I was outdoors when it started to rain- I went to my sister's, and waited for the sky to clear to come back! I am so sorry I kept you waiting for me, and… but you are drenched in rainwater! Oh dear, I am so sorry" Miss Price rambled. "How, you are here, cousin?" she asked, having just noticed Tom's presence.

"Yes, cousin" he replied playfully, "I kept company to your guest. Now that you are here, I shall let you both enjoy what shall be an interesting conversation, I have no doubt".

"What did you talk about?" Susan asked.

"Miss Bennet advised me against my scheme of turning part of this library in a billiard room, and very skillfully too. This is certainly a topic Miss Bennet is interested in" he said.

Once he had left the room, Susan looked at Mary who was gaping slightly.

_Very skillfully? Was he laughing at me, or did I really convince him a little?__ Then…_

"Miss Price, would you agree to resume our History lessons? I have thought of a new way of teaching. If this does not work, then we shall definitely quit."

"You are not compelled to help me, Mar…Miss Bennet."

"I know. Just let me try again, please."

Miss Price hesitated, then gaily:

"All right! I was furious at me for quitting so easily! Let us try again, shall we?"

* * *

Tom Bertram had resumed his serious activities, mostly consisting of business matters. After one hour of suffering, he left his study and wandered through Mansfield Park. He wondered what pleasure his vivacious cousin could find in the company of Miss Bennet. Quite coincidentally, his footsteps led him to her cousins' room. There, he did not make his presence known. Instead, he resorted to eavesdropping. 

And thus I clothe my naked villainy  
With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ,  
And seem a saint when most I play the devil.

He stifled a laugh as Miss Bennet tried to drop the level of her voice- and failed miserably. A baritone, not a soprano, was required to play the part of Richard III.

"Was he really this evil?" Susan inquired.

"This is what I like most in History: you never know. History is full of blanks ready to be filled- like the bookshelves of your cousin's library."

_This comparison was really Bennet-like_, Tom snickered.

"Do you mean that it is up to us to guess what happened?" Susan asked.

"To a certain extent, yes" Mary said prudently. "Some facts are established, so do not let your imagination run wild…too much" she added, seeing Susan's smile beginning to falter.

"When Fanny used to teach me, she told me about bravery, patriotism…she made it sound really adventurous too. But what about the plots, the conspiracies the play refers to?"

Susan saw Mary's eyes brighten:

"History is made by humans, and it is human's nature to make mistakes, may we learn from them. Yes, there are traitors, liars, but also loyal allies. History is unpredictable and much more eventful that history books make it appear."

"I did not know that things might be so…twisted! And in this play too! I always thought that classics were serious and boring" Susan exclaimed with delight.

"Trust me, these plays are full with twisted souls" Mary assured her. "Will you read this one with me? Then, if you wish, we might speak about it."

"Gladly!" Susan accepted.

Tom Bertram, a smile playing on his lips, remained a few minutes to listen to their reading. Susan's energy was very enjoyable, but she put more enthusiasm than talent in her reading. Miss Bennet's acting and reading skills were also terrible, but something in her tone let him think that with more training, she might actually have a flair for tragedy.

However, and he was adamant about it, she was not gifted for comedy. He broke this trail of thoughts as he remembered how dangerous his love for theater had turned out to be for his family, and he left.

* * *

"I hope we meet Lieutenant Price tonight. His cousin, Mrs. Yates, has invited him to stay with her husband and herself in London until he has to go on the sea again. He tells me so interesting stories about how life is in foreign countries! He is so young and he has seen so much already!" Kitty whispered in Georgiana's ear as they made their way to the ball. 

"But he is to go away in a few weeks" Georgiana reminded her.

"I know" Kitty replied carelessly.

"Pardon my question, Kitty, but is it prudent?"

"What should be prudent?"

"Are you not afraid that you might form an attachment to him?" Georgiana asked hesitantly.

"We are only good friends, Georgiana! I have known other very nice young officers, but I have not fallen for any of them yet. They are good company, and we might flirt a little, but I am sure of my heart" Kitty said confidently.

"You are lucky, for I shall never be sure of mine" Georgiana whispered.

They halted as the Earl of Hampstead and Mr. Harding came to greet Darcy and Elizabeth. The Earl bowed and introduced his friend to the couple. Kitty did her best to repress a knowing smile as Mr. Harding presented his respects to Georgiana with the appearance of the most perfect indifference.

Then, she readily accepted the Earl's invitation for the first dance, noticing that Mr. Harding lost no time to make the same offer to Georgiana, but to everyone it looked as though he was doing it out of civility, so that Miss Darcy did not remain alone while Miss Bennet had found a partner.

The Earl was a good dancer for a man who claimed he did not enjoy this activity. Kitty's eyes sparkled laughingly as her partner, a fake smile plastered on his face, occasionally shot murderous glances at his friend.

Aware that they had an audience, Mr. Harding did his best to hide his interest in Miss Darcy.

Georgiana, very uneasy, kept glancing around them, even looking at the ceiling once.

"Are you looking for someone? " Mr. Harding asked out of the blue.

Surprised, she looked at him only for turning her head seconds afterwards, as their eyes had met, causing her to blush uncontrollably.

"No, I am not looking for anyone." she muttered.

"You were looking in so many directions that I thought you were searching for someone" Harding explained.

"Oh, I was not." Georgiana blushed again.

"Then, if you do not mind my asking, why were you admiring the walls and the ceiling? Though you do have good taste, I agree that the architect was very talented" Harding smiled encouragingly.

"I was not…" Georgiana began, embarrassed.

"Unless you were avoiding my humble person" Harding said in a serious tone.

"I was not…"

Sensing her discomfort, he added:

"Miss Darcy, I beg you to forgive me for my impertinent questions. I am not a man of sense, as my friend Hampstead could tell you".

"I was looking for inspiration!" Georgiana blurted out.

"Inspiration?" Harding repeated, confused. "Are you an artist, Miss Darcy?" he asked.

"I draw" Georgiana admitted.

"Really? How interesting" Mr. Harding commented with more warmth than the situation demanded.

Lord Glowner frowned as he watched the dancers. One pair made him particularly snarl. Lady Markinson, one of the biggest gossiper- and matchmaker- in London, chose this moment to ask him whether he was interested in dancing, and with whom.

"This, Lady Markinson, this you shall find out very soon" he answered.

Then, as the first dance ended, he came to Kitty and asked her for the next dance, barely acknowledging the Earl's presence.

"This dance was lovely, Miss Bennet" the Earl said forcefully before bowing and turning his back on Lord Glowner.

Kitty felt delighted that she had been distinguished by two noble gentlemen in a row. She spotted Miss Bingley's horrified expression, and then looked at Lord Glowner. Once again, she had to admit that though she had deemed Mr. Darcy to be the most handsome gentleman of her acquaintance, Lord Glowner too could pretend to this title. As she accepted his invitation, she purposefully conjured up a picture of Lieutenant Price's face in her mind.

The young man could not rival Lord Glowner in the looks department, but it was sad indeed that Lord Glowner lacked the spirit that animated William Price. It was also very distressing that Lieutenant Price had only this spirit and his uniform to recommend him. Why did he not have Lord Glowner's looks and wealth too? Kitty deeply resented the unfairness of the situation.

Mr. Harding had claimed the next dance and Georgiana had not the courage to refuse him. He asked her questions on her drawings, the tools she used, her favorite subjects. She answered that she enjoyed drawing landscapes and sometimes ball scenes, that she used pencils. Mr. Harding did not seem to notice her reserve and ended their dance on a whisper:

"I wish you luck in your quest for inspiration, but sometimes the answer does not lie in the ceiling, no matter how simple it is for us to look at it."

In spite of herself, Georgiana was left pondering over the enigmatic sentence all night.

* * *

"I do not understand how easily people are falling for his lies. How can such deceptions exist in reality?" Susan asked in the middle of the play. 

Mary did not mind being interrupted. This was the first time she was interrupted by someone who actually wanted to speak with her, and not dismiss her intervention.

"Well" she pondered with her usual seriousness, "I think that some people are skilled at creating powerful illusions, but they are taking advantage of others' weaknesses. Honey words and flatteries are effective only when they fall in the ear of vain people. To be honest, few of us are gifted with enough discernment to judge of one's character without prejudice. Open manners, the appearance of honor, an untainted reputation and our own first impressions may make us think poorly of a good man and think highly of an undeserving one."

"At least we are warned" Susan said thoughtfully. "This reduces the likelihood of us making this kind of mistakes, doesn't it?"

"It may help" Mary conceded solemnly.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

-_Well, I personally think that the pace of this story begins to quicken (eventually, are you saying), doesn't it? As usual, I'd love to know your opinion!_

_-coming soon:__ some announcements are made, acquaintances are improved and letters are exchanged again…Oh, and the matchmaking (or the interference) begins for some of our heroines…_


	15. Fears and hopes

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts of matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, and other lessener Austenian heroines. "Crossover" with other novels from Jane Austen.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

Thanks to the reviewers for chapter 14: **Philyra, Pocket Pixie, Reveriepi, Winter's Empire, polarity, Raven E, Rocksey, June W, krisa722, sae, Farie Insignias, Isaboo, Pathatlon, Requiem for a Sunburst, Miss Laura, LuViTa, Lady Knight Keladry, XxSilent SighxX, grumpirah, stonegnome1 & ixi-shaz!**

You can find the replies to your reviews on the forum I set up.

I cannot believe it has been so long- sorry! But I repeat I do not want to abandon the story, just that updating may be irregular.

* * *

The night following the ball was spent in deep reflection by Kitty. She was delighted and disappointed; disappointed because Lieutenant Price had been nowhere to be seen, and delighted because she had been distinguished by two of the finest eligible gentlemen in Town –if only Lydia had been here to share her triumph over the disdainful ladies of the Assembly, how they would have exchanged animated whispers.

But Lydia was no more her confident. Lydia was a married woman. Married to a man without fortune, without connections, and without any principles at all- Georgiana's story had opened her eyes on the true nature of Wickham, the handsome officer she used to dote on.

Kitty had perceived Elizabeth and Georgiana's worry at her mentioning Lieutenant Price. She huffed at the memory. She was no fool- she knew that her staying with her sister would ultimately lead to her meeting and hopefully marrying a suitable young man. Though she might enjoy the company of young men without prospects, she knew better than to marry any of them. Her resolution strengthened after having experienced all the comfort Elizabeth enjoyed as Mrs. Darcy.

Now all she had to do was to set her cap on a gentleman who fulfilled all the requirements Kitty had deemed compulsory: rich- at least as much as M. Bingley-, the owner of a house in London without which Kitty felt that life was incomplete, in love with her, and pleasant and good-looking enough so that she might fall in love with him sufficiently to get married without regrets.

Her thoughts went to Mrs. Collins, formerly known as Charlotte Lucas. It was no secret that Charlotte had agreed to marry the Bennet's cousin out of sense rather than out of sensibility, for the man was a pompous fool with nothing to recommend him apart from his good situation- under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, his revered benefactress- and his being the heir to Longbourne, after her father's death.

Marrying out of "sense". How dreadful, Kitty contemplated. She was resolved to make a sensible match herself, but only to a certain extent.

_Marrying a man with the face of M__r. Collins?_

Yes, "being good-looking" was _definitely_ a non-negotiable requirement for the gentleman.

Besides, honesty compelled her to admit that despite all his flaws, Lord Glowner _was _good-looking, and a good dancer too, with a proud figure to match his elegance.

He had seemed interested in her, how could his willingness to dance with her be explained otherwise? She reckoned that she would be a fool to shun him if his attentions evolved. In these dispositions she went to sleep, resolving to be more expansive next time the two of them would meet.

* * *

However, the Darcy household received the visit of the Earl of Hampstead and Mr. Harding the following morning. Though Kitty rejoiced that Georgiana was the object of Mr. Harding's affection- the man wore his heart on the sleeve, much like Mr. Bingley did whenever Jane was in the vicinity-, she felt quite neglected.

A gentleman's attention would have been quite welcome, but Mr. Harding was clearly besotted by Georgiana and his friend had very little to say to _her_. All her cordial efforts to engage _him _in a lively conversation had been met with the utmost disdain. When she had asked him to give his opinion on the shade of ribbons which would best suit her: lavender, periwinkle or lilac, his answer _"Either will do just fine, I am_ _sure"_ had been spoken with the barest civility.

At least Lizzy had managed to hold a sustained conversation with the haughty man, which was expected according to Kitty. When one had managed to subdue the intimidating Mr. Darcy, one could not be impressed by the Earl of Hampstead. But Kitty did not like to be ignored. She would find a rich beau who would lavish her with all the attention she deserved, in the company of whom she would stand out. She was tired of always being unacknowledged, whether it was in the company of Lydia, Lizzy or Georgiana.

Mrs. Bennet could rest assured: her last unmarried daughter (Mary did not truly count, for in all honesty, who could expect anyone of means and consequence to take her for his wife?) was intent on making a brilliant match.

* * *

"She is quite shy", Harding said suddenly.

The Earl did not ask him whom he was referring to.

"What do you think of Miss Darcy's character, Sanders?"

The Earl replied dryly:

"Miss Darcy blushes too much and speaks too little. Otherwise, she most certainly qualifies as an accomplished young lady."

"How I put up with your judgmental ways, I shall never know! Sanders, I value your opinion greatly, but let me tell you that you are mistaken in this instance. I believe that there is more to Miss Darcy than meets the eye".

"I grant you that she is pretty and well-behaved, but she lacks the vivacity and the spirit one would like to find in his wife. Look at her brother: surely it did not escape your notice that he did not choose a sophisticated, well-bred and obedient wife. He did not care for his name, or his rank or his reputation; no, he settled for a Miss Bennet and I daresay he acted as man of sense!"

"Sanders, I see that Mrs. Darcy has made quite an impression on you!"

"I noticed that she possesses some of the rare qualities which, if I was so inclined, may entice me into the state I so often criticize. This is why I cannot understand you. Miss Darcy pales in comparison."

"If you are so fond of vivacious ladies, why did you shy away from Miss Catherine?" his friend teased.

"See, Hadrian, this is the problem with most young ladies: either they talk far too eloquently of hats, ribbons and gloves, like Miss Catherine, or they remain so silent that you wonder if you have offended them in any way, like Miss Darcy. Either way, one would be better off alone."

Mr. Harding smiled knowingly.

"One day, you shall change your mind and be fortunate enough to enjoy one young lady's company tremendously."

"The match has not occurred yet!" the Earl replied with such certainty that the matter was dropped.

* * *

Not so long ago, Elizabeth Darcy, née Bennet, would have found some amusement in the whole predicament. However, now that she had to chaperone Kitty and Georgiana, the situation was different. Elizabeth was a most sociable person, but she was lucid enough to recognize that the visits bestowed on her house by several gentlemen were not born out of mere courtesy. After the Earl of Hampstead and Mr. Harding, it had been Lord Glowner, Mr. Rickman and Mr. Harrison who had deemed it proper to pay their respects.

If Elizabeth was not mistaken, Mr. Harding held Georgiana in high regards, his friend had no interests in courting anyone from the Darcy household, Lord Glowner's gaze was indecipherable, Mr. Rickman admired Georgiana and Mr. Harrison was too busy gossiping to notice anything of consequence.

Lizzy sighed aloud. Kitty's and Georgiana's prospects seemed quite promising, but she feared too many suitors would bring quite a few complications in their lives.

* * *

"Miss Catherine Bennet is very common indeed", Lord Glowner declared." She cannot hold a decent conversation, and I am ashamed of having ever credited her with more cleverness than she actually possesses."

Only a few minutes in her company had been enough for him to realize that Kitty had no depth, little common sense and was not a challenge intriguing enough to tempt him.

"You are too harsh on Miss Catherine; I find her quite amiable" Mr. Harrison protested.

"I understand your meaning, Glowner," Mr. Rickman said. "A Miss Catherine Bennet cannot pretend to the distinction of, say, a Miss Georgiana Darcy."

As he spoke, the color of his cheeks heightened. It was quite a shame indeed that he had to leave town for a few weeks, but he was resolved to visit the Darcys as soon as he came back.

* * *

Mr. Bertram had been confined in the study for the past three hours. He felt like he was suffocating; the numbers he was looking at with intense concentration oppressed him.

But one of Mr. Bertram's most remarkable traits was his perseverance. The same perseverance in which he had gambled several times on the ever-losing outsider in a horse race, or had insisted to stage a play of dubious morals at Mansfield, or had remained at Newmarket all by himself, willing for his vigour to come back so that he could resume his partying.

Now that he was ready to use this character trait to achieve nobler goals (with hopefully better results) Mr. Bertram felt quite frustrated that success still eluded him.

"_If you need some help, Tom, ask Edmund", his father had said. _

"_Edmund has his parishioners and his own duties to keep him busy", Tom had replied coolly, managing to keep the hurt from his voice_.

He clenched his fists at the recollection. No matter how boring an activity keeping the books might be, he would not ask his brother for help.

"May I have a word, Cousin?"

Despite his occupation, he smiled at the only person at Mansfield who looked up to him.

"I am all ears, Cousin" he replied playfully.

"I am here to ask you a favour. If you grant it, I shall be very, very grateful indeed."

Mr. Bertram eyed discreetly a column of numbers, not really concerned by the nature of Susan's request. Whatever it might be- _pin money? A new gown for an upcoming ball?_-, he was certain that her demands would be lower than those of his sisters. Maria and Julia, when they were still unmarried, were always pestering him to be introduced to his richest acquaintances, or to be driven by him in his brand-new carriage to pay their social calls when he had other plans. In comparison, Susan's requests were quite modest.

"…and my friend looks so pale and so frail, I haven't been the one to notice this! Surely this is not good for her health. Then I was reminded of the fact that Fanny's constitution was quite weak too, before your brother- Cousin Edmund- had the idea to make her exercise and ride on horse-back. This did her a lot of good, and I thought, since my friend was so good to me, that I could repay her kindness back- with your help."

"Certainly, certainly," Mr. Bertram muttered, his eyes fixed on his work. Susan did not seem to mind, though, and she added:

"May I tell her that you gave your consent?"

"Granted, granted!" Mr. Bertram replied quite imprudently, not noticing Susan's victorious smile as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

"What?" Mary cried, forgetting herself. "I am very sorry for all the trouble you went through, Susan, but I cannot accept your offer. I cannot ride! I do not know how to!"

"This is why I convinced my cousin to extend his lessons to you. He has been teaching me for a few months, and I daresay he is a patient instructor."

"I do not own a riding habit!" Mary protested.

"I shall lend you one! We are about the same height", Susan brushed off Mary's attempts to escape the lesson.

Several minutes later, paler than ever in a dark blue riding habit which fitted her, Mary approached the stable.

"Come in, Miss Bennet", Mr. Bertram called out.

He was a trifle curious to see her looking so dejected, since after all, he was the one who had been tricked by a devious cousin. Giving lessons to Susan was something else- she was a quick learner, always ready to laugh and enjoy the moment. He was certain that Miss Bennet would require much more patience, and Tom Bertram had never been a patient man. For Susan's sake, however, he was ready to make the best of the situation.

"I took the liberty of choosing this mare for you. She is very docile, perfect for a beginner."

As he took the reins to make the mare advance towards her, Mary took a step back.

"I assure you that she is perfectly inoffensive, Miss Bennet. Please believe me, I know what I am doing," Mr. Bertram said.

"He is right," Susan piped in. "She is the most docile mare you could wish for."

It was too late to give up. Rigid, Mary accepted Mr. Bertram's assistance and found herself on the saddle. Mr. Bertram began to give her some advice on her posture, but stopped as the mare showed signs of unrest.

"Miss Bennet, she senses your fear. Calm down and trust her," he instructed.

Mary closed her eyes and whispered:

"Let me down".

He complied. As soon as she set foot on the ground, she felt better.

"I am sorry, Mary. I thought some exercise might benefit to your health."

"This is not your fault, Susan", she replied. "I never mentioned to you that only my elder sisters knew horse-back riding. I always preferred walking or the safety of a carriage."

"Are you scared of horses?" Mr. Bertram asked bemused. "Ours are not wild but well-tamed, I assure you."

"Horses, like all animals, are creatures of instinct. Their reactions are unpredictable. This is reason enough for me to fear them," Mary snapped.

"Pray, answer me: do you honestly believe that unlike animals, humans are creatures of reason in all their endeavours?"

"I believe that there is consistency in human nature, which makes even the most reckless actions unsurprising in the light of one's weakness", she said pointedly.

"Humanity would be so predictable! This is quite a depressing thought to behold, Miss Bennet. I, for one, would be very unlucky to be considered so unoriginal."

"I find the desire to distinguish oneself very close to vanity. This is placing too much thought on what others think of you. On the other hand, steadiness in one's endeavours and plain common sense are, in today's society, less common and therefore more original than you believe, Mr. Bertram".

"Now I should think that despite your calling me vain, _you_ are the one who prides on your originality and secretly wishes to distinguish yourself in this fashion", Mr. Bertram teased.

"I have no desire at all to be distinguished by anyone", Mary said with indignation.

"I have no wish to argue with you, Miss Bennet", Mr. Bertram said good-naturedly. "Let us all agree that you are indeed a creature of reason while I am a creature of nonsense, and let us put the matter to rest. Now, if you will excuse me, Thunder needs to race."

Susan and Mary watched as he rode a black horse, racing through the woods and disappearing from their view. His speed terrified Mary; she voiced her worry aloud to Susan, who replied:

"I know you may find my cousin imprudent, but he has a sure hold on the reins. He is a very skilled rider. Mary, are you sure that you cannot get used to the horses? They are quite gentle, really; and your fears will be soon overcome."

"Thank you for your trouble, Susan," Mary said again, "but let us agree that this is one area in which I shall never be proficient, and let us go back inside, if you do not mind?"

And so they went back, upon the arrival of Mrs. Edmund Bertram.

Mary had never seen her face glowing with so much happiness before.

"Susan!" she cried," a letter from William!"

Mary did not wish to intrude on a private moment, but Susan's sister did not mind her presence. Mary learned that William was their elder brother, a Lieutenant in the Navy, that he had spent the past week in London in the company of their cousins the Yates. From his own accounts, the young man had been excessively diverted, but now he was ready to sail again. At the end of the letter, there was a kind word for Susan and the Bertrams.

When Fanny took her leave, Mary inquired:

"Susan, is something the matter? You were quite silent."

"I hope you will not think less of me, but I sometimes get a little bit jealous", Susan confessed. "William is Fanny's correspondent, not mine, though I remained at home with him while Fanny was taken in by our uncle when she was only ten years old. They share a bond which excludes others."

"I understand," Mary said quietly. "Elizabeth and Jane are each other's confidents, and so were Kitty and Lydia. I have four siblings, yet it felt like I was bereft of sisters."

"My other brothers and my youngest sister are not to be trusted with what makes such a bond strengthen," Susan sighed. "I often thought how nice it would have been to whisper secrets to each other, to speak freely to someone who understands you better than anyone else."

"Someone who does not judge, or criticize your tastes," Mary echoed.

"Do your sisters write to you?" Susan asked.

"Well, Jane writes me the latest news. Kitty and Lydia never were reliable correspondents anyway, and Lizzy writes dutifully. Georgiana's letters are more open, and she is not even my sister by blood!"

"I am sure they do care, as your parents do", Susan said in a comforting voice.

Mary gave out a wry smile:

"Mother has only eyes for her prettiest daughters, or the ones who married well, or the ones who may make an advantageous match! Mama's opinion does not trouble me though, but Papa's", Mary trailed off, "Papa's matters. He is an intelligent man, you know; erudite and literate as well. But I was never his favourite. He only asked for my opinions to ridicule them, or spoke to me when I did not expect it and had to gather my wits in haste to answer him properly. Eventually, I gave up on striving for his approval".

"It would appear that we are not the most doted upon daughters. My father does not care much for all of us, and my mother loves only her sons and her youngest daughter", Susan smiled with melancholy.

"Self pity will not do us any good", Mary said with decision. "You left Portsmouth and I left Longbourne to begin a new life. Things will change."

Susan turned her gaze towards Mary:

"What are your hopes?"

Mary shifted nervously in her seat:

"It all seems blurry right now. I want to be independent, this much I know. I do not want to live off my sisters' charity. It is a chilling prospect to be called "Aunt Mary", live in one of my sister's house and be someone between a guest and an ever patient nanny to her children."

"Not being the mistress of one's actions, not owning anything in this world?" Susan completed knowingly. "There is only one way out, if you are not an heiress. Marriage."

"My elder sisters had the looks and the charm to make gentlemen overlook their lack of dowry. I possess nothing of the sort. The worst part is that I am foolish enough to expect that marriage is not a mere arrangement between two parties."

"You are the romantic, Mary", Susan said. "I am more practical. Any gentleman with common sense and a nice income shall do for me. I do not want to live off Sir Bertram's generosity for the rest of my existence, and love blinds us to someone's flaws until it is too late to call off the wedding."

"Susan, believe me when I say that _you _do not have to settle for a marriage of convenience. You are blessed with the looks and the spirit many gentlemen will no doubt be attracted to."

Susan shook her head:

"If I ever do marry, it will be a very sensible affair."

"I would have believed", Mary objected, "that love was the most sensible requirement".

"My mother married out of love. She did not care for my father's lack of income, or status. She would not hear any objection. Love died soon, children were brought into this world and bills were left unpaid." Susan lifted her chin defiantly. "I will never part with any of my children to leave them in the care of my estranged but well-off family. I shall be rich enough to provide for the ones I care for".

Mary thought of her own parents: she was well aware that her father had married her mother for her beauty and that the appeal had faded with his realization that her intelligence did not match her other attributes.

"Happiness, in marriage or in life, is difficult to achieve, isn't it? But I am confident that you shall find a man worthy of being loved. As for myself, I will not nurture hopes that can only be dashed."

They talked of lighter matters for a few minutes, and then Mary ended her visit. As Susan assisted Lady Bertram in her occupations, she resolved that she would find for Mary and herself the most perfect husbands, who would offer as many guarantees of happiness one could hope for.

* * *

_Dear Miss Bennet,_

_This is a most embarrassing matter, but I cannot turn to anyone else. I hope that you will understand my need to confide in someone whose opinion I value._

_I was well aware that I was of marriageable age when we arrived in London at the beginning of the season. However, it was not until a few days ago that I realized what this implied. _

_A gentleman has already begun to pay us several visits, and I am under the impression that he comes for me and not for your sister. I fear that it is only a matter of time before Lizzy, Kitty or someone else asks me to take a decision concerning this gentleman- either encourage his attentions, or discourage him. This may occur with yet another suitor, and this changes nothing in my situation._

_I do not wish to form any attachment now. To be honest with myself, I admit that this is not quite the truth: I fear that I might be weak enough to let myself fall for someone…again._

_I did not tell you before that a man broke my trust, a few years ago. I believed his lies and was saved by my brother from taking the most foolish course of action! But I do not wish to dwell on it, and neither do you; suffice to say that this ordeal left me wary of trusting ever again._

_I do not trust my own judgment anymore._

_Fear. How much I loathe this word! It holds us back, puts a wall between us and the world._

_Never let it affect you as it did me, Mary, for once it engulfs you, it spreads in every fibber of your being until you become a mere stranger in your own life." _

* * *

_Dear Miss Darcy_

_I agree, fear is a loathsome word indeed. When does cautiousness turn into over-cautiousness, then turns into apathy? How can we ever trust our judgment after being mistaken?_

_I am deeply sorry that your trust was thus betrayed. This man was a scoundrel, and I certainly hope that he was punished for his actions. But why should you punish yourself for a fault which was not yours in the first place? We are supposed to learn from our past mistakes. Deciding against using your judgment, for fear of being lied to again, is the real mistake. _

_Our errors are ours to own, but our choices are ours to make. Do not let others make these choices for you; your happiness is at stake. Trust that we are creatures of reason, blessed with common sense. Trust your judgment as much as I trust you._

_I have come to the realization that fear is also part of my life. When I lived in Longbourne and found comfort in the daily routine of the household, when I observed the predictable actions of my parents and sisters: Mama's calling for her salts, Papa's smile at Lizzy, Kitty and Lydia giggling, while I buried myself in some book, it was fear which drove me._

_Fear of standing out, fear of being ridiculed, for I must admit, however painful this might be, that I was guilty of vanity. I wanted the good opinion of my father and my sisters; I craved for a compliment from anyone who would happen to hear my music._

_Despite all my self-proclaimed confidence in my opinions, I did not trust myself then, and I still do not trust myself now._

_I must reach out to others and learn to trust them. I must overcome my fears. One step at a time- this is my advice to both of us, Georgiana. _

* * *

After a whole hour being spent in discussing the merits of Shakespeare's comedies- Mary was partial to Much Ado About Nothing, Susan discovered- , Mary hesitantly asked if Susan's offer was still standing.

The one who did not jump with joy upon learning the news was Mr. Bertram.

The horses whickered as Mary entered the stable. Mr. Bertram refrained himself from rolling his eyes- Miss Bennet was so stiff that it was no wonder that the horses had picked up on her fear the moment she arrived.

"Come here, Miss Bennet. Now all you have to do is initiate contact and soothe her."

He took her gloved hand in his and guided her to the snout of the animal. Mary retired quickly her hand when it was obvious that her proximity made the mare nervous.

"Look, Miss Bennet, this is how you shall do it. It is a way of introducing yourself to her", he said, holding out his hand while the mare nuzzled up against it.

"They like you", stated Mary in a puzzled tone.

"This might surprise you, Miss Bennet, but I am a very likeable person."

He then proceeded to explain:

"Animals sense it if you are trying to conceal something. Be honest with them, and they will not disappoint you."

Mary took a steady breath, held out her hand and willed herself not to step back when the mare whickered. She tentatively stroked her and was surprised to see how easy it was.

"I knew it!" Susan exclaimed. "When you were fearless enough to throw yourself in the way of the carriage to save me, I knew that you would overcome your natural fear!"

Mr. Bertram blinked and demanded an explanation. Blushing, Susan narrated how Mary had saved her life back in London, despite the protests of the unsuspected savior.

"Miss Bennet did it!" he asked more than he stated.

"This might surprise you, Mr. Bertram, but I only reacted like anyone would have."

Not anyone, Mr. Bertram thought. He recalled a fall and its aftermath, him being left unattended in a desert house by his so-called friends while his health deteriorated. Yet Mary Bennet had risked her life to save a stranger.

He looked at the pale young woman with a newfound respect in his eyes. He watched as she persevered despite her awkwardness, actually listening to his advice. She was an attentive pupil.

Mary was not aware of the progress she had made in Mr. Bertram's esteem. Though she had to admit that he was a gifted rider and a better teacher than she expected, her opinion of him did not change. He was the spoilt, prodigal son with easy manners and little morals. Moreover, he smiled too much in a teasing, unnerving way he only used with her.

* * *

Lady Bertram was half-dozing as the exchange took place:

"We shall make a decent rider of you, Miss Bennet", Mr. Bertram stated with satisfaction.

"This was not what you seemed to believe during our first lesson", Mary pointed out.

"A man is entitled to change his mind, Miss Bennet", Mr. Bertram replied.

A glint in her eyes, Mary Bennet retorted that she had no doubt Mr. Bertram used this privilege as often as he could.

"Are you implying that I am fickle, Miss Bennet?"

"You jumped to this conclusion yourself, Mr. Bertram."

"Well, I admit it", he said much to her surprise. "I find it to be a quality rather than a flaw. I pity those of us who are so set in their ways that they fail to recognize that they were mistaken in the first place."

"The one who knows himself shall have no doubt, no fears", Mary replied. "Once he has made up his mind, he will not waver."

"Knowing oneself is an arduous task indeed. _To thine own self be true _is a great piece of advice, but who can flatter himself to know who he really is? Your fearless and decided hero is an ideal, Miss Bennet. I know of no men who actually know themselves to the extent you aspire to. The ones who pretend they do are liars."

Charles Maddox felt left out and to be quite honest, he did not understand how a discussion on horseback riding had turned into a philosophical argument. He looked at Susan, who was all ears. On her face was a scheming expression which unsettled him a little.

When Miss Bennet left and Tom Bertram went to his study, he asked Susan what her thoughts were.

"I was thinking of the fondness of Miss Bennet for the characters of Beatrice and Benedict", Susan replied with a smile.

Mr. Maddox frowned:

"You mean, from _Much Ado_?"

Susan went on:

"And here I was, wondering which gentleman of our acquaintances would be good enough for her! It was right in front of my eyes! How blind I was!"

"I still do not understand, Miss Price."

"Just wait, Mr. Maddox. When the bans are published, you shall know that I made the match myself!"

"Whose match?" Mr. Maddox wondered, quite at a loss.

"Good day, Mr. Maddox", Susan replied with twinkling eyes, already scheming for her friend and her cousin's happiness.

* * *


	16. Of praise and harmony

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan Price. Crossover with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

Many, many thanks for those of you who follow this story; to the reviewers (I have replied to you on the forum I set up some time ago) and to those of you who PMed me this past year; thanks you so much for giving me these encouragements. I really hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

* * *

Mary had been of little consequence at home: her opinions ignored, her studies neglected. Isolated amidst her sisters, there had been no friends for her to confide in. That Miss Price should seek her company; that Miss Darcy should prove such a faithful, sincere correspondent; that her quality of newcomer as a young lady under the tutelage of Mrs Traumayn should make her worthy of notice to their neighbours: this was a novelty she had yet to grow accustomed to.

Mrs Traumayn was by no means unobservant; what she did not adroitly deduced from Mary's answers to her enquiries, she inferred from her behaviour. Both Mr and Mrs Bennet she deemed to be very indifferent parents; the instruction of their daughters had been severely remiss- that Miss Bennet, a gentleman's daughter, should have had no governess, was inconceivable! Miss Bennet, receiving no guidance, had attempted to educate herself; the attempt, misguided as it was, was not without merits. It was a shame indeed that Miss Bennet should have mistaken pompous aphorisms written by conceited old bores who took pride in their moral superiority for a reliable guide of conduct; Mrs Traumayn blamed equally the old bores and the publishers, who should have known better than to bring those sanctimonious pieces to the attention of the general public. She hoped that they had not yet spoiled the nature of Miss Bennet; she found reasons to hope in the fact that her young _protégée _had not grown to be wild and thoughtless, as other unguided young ladies might have done under these circumstances. That she had prized self-reflection was admirable; that her views should be so narrow, and confined to the strictures she had come to depend upon, not so much.

Mary proved to be worthy of the confidence Mrs Traumayn had placed in her. She was eager to deserve her good opinion and to relieve her from the cares and duties that her position made impossible to ignore. She drew the menus for the dinner that was to be given within the fortnight, bearing talks of dishes, side-dishes, and courses with grace; she learnt that managing a household could be done with much more efficiency that she had been led to believe: there were no domestic upsets in this house, now that Mrs Traumayn- and, gradually, Mary- did oversee the servants' tasks. How well-regulated and agreeable life at Longbourn could have been, Mary thought wistfully, if such principles had been applied. Until this day, she had had little knowledge of economics; assisting Mrs Traumayn led her to look into accounts. Her numerous questions were met with benevolence; she learnt about taxes, and terms, and other daunting matters; her ready mind was impatient to exert itself; and soon enough, she was able to grasp a few necessities she felt ashamed to have ignored so long. The suspicion that her father might have managed their income better, so that the contingencies of the future should be provided for, even entered her mind; she was quick to dispel it. Regrets and might-have-been, she was discovering, were of no comfort; instead, she rejoiced in her newfound-knowledge, as she wrote Georgiana.

From Mary Bennet to Georgiana Darcy:

There is much satisfaction to be found in acquiring knowledge that can be put to practical use. What I have learned would hardly be seen as accomplishments; yet I would rate them higher than any of those ornamental accomplishments we are encouraged to devote time and energy to. It is gratifying to feel one can be of utility.

As for the rest, though I shall never manage an estate, I like to pretend that I could, with all those interesting facts I have learned; I shall be content with the certainty that when the time comes for me to manage a small income, I shall do it very well myself, aware that strict economy can be achieved through simple means.

Mary paused; thinking back to Susan's careless comments, which escaped her more easily since they were each other's confidante. Susan had known poverty; Susan understood how unwise it was to exceed one's income better than Mary did. Had she ignored so many realities for so long? Mary could not tell. It was humbling, to discover such holes in one's wisdom.

* * *

Kitty found no faults with the first weeks of her London season. She was duly impressed by the elegance of assemblies; despite the many restrictions she had to comply with so she would not pass the bounds of decorum, she seldom missed the country, though there was a great deal of affectation among the Ton which unsettled her more than she would have cared to admit. Yet the advantages outweighed the inconvenient: having to rein in her natural liveliness was a small price to pay to enjoy the many pleasures London offered. The society in which she evolved, so elegant and well-connected; the fashion she eagerly followed; the trinkets she bought, using up all her allowance: all of which were described with great details to Miss Maria Lucas, promoted to the rank of dear friend so that Kitty could express her triumph in the letters she was bound to write.

_This _was something Lydia did not have, thought Kitty with a vengeance. The slight of being second to her younger sister (before the Brighton debacle) had vanished; and if Kitty found herself deriving much pleasure from the excitement of London, the secure knowledge that Maria Lucas was envious of her good fortune (and that so were all the other young ladies of her neighbourhood) afforded her almost as much satisfaction.

* * *

Being of a more retiring disposition, Georgiana could not bring herself to enjoy the season. Her brother was anxious that she should feel at ease, and she hastened to reassure him of her delight, for she did not wish to spoil the obvious pleasure of their party. Mary was the sole recipient of her distress.

From Georgiana Darcy to Mary Bennet:

…for I find myself unable to discuss artfully with strangers. Whenever a gentleman attempts to engage me in a conversation, I am all too aware of our audience: watchful gazes, attentive ears which will lead to speculations on the nature of our relations. My words are stilted, my voice sounds forced, I cannot form a whole sentence; to all parties involved, this is a trying experience. I have overheard some ladies discussing me: one called me haughty; others discerned my shyness and agreed upon the fact that there was a distinct lack of spirit in such meekness.

Many times I have tried to heed Elizabeth's recommendations; I have read and re-read your dear letters so I could find in them the courage to make new friends.

Sometimes, as I enter crowded ballrooms, I do long for the peace of Pemberley. How spiritless of me, indeed, to feel homesick already! The place is so dear to my heart- I have so fond memories of it. I am biased, for I am afraid that no house, no matter how luxurious or comfortable, can compare to Pemberley. But perhaps I have no need to explain this to you, Mary. Perhaps you do long for Longbourn as well. Words fail me; I shall rely on your clear understanding to make sense of my poor ramblings. To me, Pemberley is such a place: a place where everything is what it ought to be, a place where I cannot be anything but peaceful. I cannot imagine being happy elsewhere, and I dread the day when I shall leave the safety of its walls…This attachment, I fear, might seem irrational. Have you known it, Mary? Do you know of places such as this?

* * *

In spite of her misgivings, Georgiana was determined to let herself be coaxed out of her reserve. She did not wish to appear unsociable. In many matters though she found it easier to nod her assent when her advice was requested; unlike Kitty, she could not smile and encourage whichever flow of witticisms was directed at her. Out of all the gentlemen she had been introduced too, Mr Harding's society was the most relaxing: his manners were gentle; he did not make her uneasy by paying her extravagant compliments; when she felt tongue-tied, he did not pursue the matter by insisting that he would get Miss Darcy's opinion at any cost. Kitty might pretend that he was halfway in love with her; their limited number of interactions, coupled with Georgiana's own reserve, made it an unlikely event. He had been quite civil when they had met; he had called once, trying to engage her in a conversation, asking her common questions and not pressing her for answers. In this disposition she was able to meet him at another assembly with the intent to be more generous with her answers, were he to engage her in small talk again.

This he did, asking her how she liked the balls she had attended so far, and how she enjoyed her season; to which she began to reply that she liked it very much, everything had been quite pleasing.

"Although I do like the country better", she said.

At his inquiring look, she stammered:

"I ought not to have said this, I suppose. I do not mean to say that I do not enjoy myself at these assemblies."

She was anxious not to be thought discontent. Mr Harding smiled:

"Then we are both unfashionable, Miss Darcy, for I do like the country better, too. The city is quite enjoyable, for a while; and I daresay it remains so as long as you can share its entertainments with agreeable companions. Yet smaller and more familiar circles encourage a greater deal of intimacy."

"I do prefer smaller circles and quiet reunions," Georgiana admitted. "I also miss the views, the landscape..."

Mr Harding glanced eloquently at the crowded, stuffy ballroom.

"Space and fresh air," he added knowingly. "I do wish my siblings shared your tastes; but they are young and quite cross with me for not bringing them to the city. They are the picture of health for now; if I yielded, they would be wan and restless after two days of this regimen."

"How old are they?" Georgiana asked with interest.

"Frederick is fourteen, Eleanor is not yet thirteen, and Walter will turn next this month."

The Earl interrupted to present his respects then observed:

"If you are extolling the virtues of your siblings to Miss Darcy, let me protest. Your brothers are quite wild."

'The boys are little scamps," Mr Harding said with more warmth than his words suggested. "They are always ready to get into some scrape or the other", his friend said drily.

"Oh dear. I do hope they were not hurt", Georgiana whispered, alarmed by these comments.

Mr Harding looked merely amused:

"You must not listen to Sanders, Miss Darcy. In larger families, there is bound to be some uproar in the house at times."

"Upon my word, some uproar!" the Earl exclaimed. "When I last went to visit you, you happened to mention my fencing in front of Master Walter; and he was restless until I staged a mock- swordfight and battled him!"

"You made for a dashing pirate", Mr Harding replied.

"All dignity forsaken", he countered with a mournful look.

"Come, Sanders, feelings of self-importance are superfluous among old friends", Mr Harding said teasingly.

They were joined by others, and Georgiana was left to listen to Kitty's impressions and quizzes. The conversation had flowed easily, though she had not contributed much to it. She felt that she had caught a glimpse of Mr Harding's intimacy. The relations between he and his siblings puzzled her a little, since William had never been much for playfulness; however, she was aware through Elizabeth that fondness could be found in teasing.

* * *

"She talked to me, Sanders!"

"I was there, and I believe common courtesy dictates that she should reply to the comments that you directed at her."

The Earl, more hardened than his friend, was not as easily charmed by Miss Darcy:

"What do you know of her likes and dislikes? Of her character? So far you have met six or seven times, were partnered for several dances, and held half a conversation tonight. You believe yourself ready for matrimony; Miss Darcy is a very handsome lady; am I to congratulate you tomorrow?"

"So far I have found Miss Darcy to be perfectly charming. I have no reason to believe that she is anything but kind-hearted."

"This _I_ would settle through prolonged intimacy and careful examination. The foundation of an alliance should require no less", Sanders said with assurance.

"A most rational way of ensuring one's happiness, I am sure", Harding replied, "but surely we cannot be all careful examination, all the time. You cannot ignore the power of others more spontaneous impressions; indeed, I would say that these very impressions guide most of our own judgment."

"I should be sorry to allow these impressions to impair my judgment of others; they are likely to blind me to capital flaws."

"I do not think you at risk of ever being blind to the faults of others", was his friend's answer, "I own you would rather be blind to their good qualities, for y_ou_ are too quick to judge and to dismiss."

"And _you _are too liberal with your good opinion and too reluctant to take it back once you have bestowed it", the Earl was prompt to counter.

* * *

From Mary Bennet to Georgiana Darcy:

I confess, dear Georgiana, that I do not miss Longbourn as much as I ought to. That you should miss Pemberley, where you hold dear memories, and which, I am given to believe, is a beautiful estate, is quite natural. Do I know of such places? I think so.

Pray, Georgiana, do not laugh at these lines. I already think poorly of myself for being sent into raptures at the mere sight of those grounds. There is a park, five miles rounds; the woods are beautiful; the house is stately, spacious and modern-built; yet I cannot do justice to the strong impression Mansfield Park has made on me. It goes beyond the elegance of the architecture- this is a place meant for order and harmony.

I went to Mansfield several times to visit Susan; my first impressions have remained the same. How I wish you could be here! You and Susan are my dearest friends; I have praised your kindness to Susan, while she has done the same for her cousin. My task was easier than hers.

I cannot avoid entirely the society of Mr Bertram; it is much vexing that I cannot visit and admire Mansfield without him being here. I cannot fault him for this, for it is his home; I ought to be more sociable, for Susan's sake, but I find very little to recommend him. For a gentleman who is to inherit an estate and the numerous duties it entails, he displays no signs of seriousness; indeed, he seems much inclined to levity. Also, Mansfield boasts of a library, a true library deserving of the name, where I could happily spend days; Mr Bertram has a scheme to convert it into a billiard room! If this does not enlighten you about his character, Georgiana, then you are much more charitable than I.

We are to be pitied indeed, for both of us do not converse easily; we are wary of nonsensical repartees and require a sensible partner. I do hope you shall be luckier than I, for I had the recent misfortune to talk to Mr Bertram. He professed opinions that might or might not have been his own; I suspect he was making sport of me. He is a most irksome man, and for the life of me, I cannot figure him out.

* * *

Very soon in her young life, Susan had been familiar with the harsh realities of living on a very small income for a very large family. The neglect of her father, the indolence of her mother- so much like her sister Lady Bertram, which would have been of little consequence if she had not been the mother of nine children with little means-, they had prompted Susan, at the tender age of fourteen, to grow active and determined, managing servants and younger siblings with no other motivation than the well-meaning desire to set things right. Her Uncle Sir Bertram had then offered to take her to Mansfield, where she had replaced her older sister as a great support to Lady Bertram. Like Fanny, her parents had spared her without regrets.

Life at Mansfield was quieter; her cares were over; the sense of urgency had disappeared. Her previous life, spent in a bustle of activity, was no more. Now a young lady of sixteen, bordering on seventeen, she must be excused for indulging herself into the flights of fancy she had been denied for so long. She could have been content with reading novels to her Aunt and readying herself to sigh over the picture of a young gentleman she was bound to meet at the ball Sir Bertram would give for her coming out into society. This was not to be; for she had retained her practical spirits. Pursuits of matrimony, she understood, could not be left to chance. She could not be satisfied with hoping and observing; she had found a true friend in Miss Bennet, whom she felt deserved happiness. Mary was resigned to a sad fate; this was not to be, Susan decided.

Susan was quite lonely in Mansfield; her Aunt, though benevolent, would not give her useful advice; Sir Thomas looked solemn enough not to be troubled with her little troubles; her sister Fanny was married to Cousin Edmund, a clergyman, safely established at the parsonage and busy with the daily matters of the parish. Thus she had attached herself to Cousin Tom. Had she been like Fanny before her, too shy to make her wishes known, Tom Bertram would have probably paid little attention to her beyond buying her pretty gifts, for he was generous without a care. However, he was determined to be a better Cousin than he had been a brother; since he had never learnt how to express proper care beyond providing for material necessities, it was fortunate for both of them that Susan should voice her bouts of sadness when she experienced them. He had taken pains to brighten her spirits; he had been awarded her gratitude and affection, for he was good-natured and less proud than his rank gave him the right to be. Soon she had come to view him as an elder brother who would give encouragements and dispense advice where it was needed; in return he had come to see her more favourably than any of his own sisters. Both were much similar in their energy and natural cheerfulness; both were inclined to enjoy a little too much follies and absurdities.

That Susan should delight in the very idea of a match between her friend and her Cousin, both unattached, was understandable. They were so dear to _her_ heart that she did not pause to consider that maybe they were far from being dear to each other.

With youthful ardour, she set up to contrive the natural development of their acquaintance; her first attempt to leave them both alone while she excused herself under the guise of fetching Lady's Bertram needlework leading to the following interplay:

* * *

"My cousin tells us you are a musician, Miss Bennet. Then you shall rejoice in my news: though we do not keep much company with us at that time, my sister and her husband are to visit us; I own they will bring friends with them. We shall give dinners and balls, of course; and all in attendance will be ready to be entertained by your musical talent."

Mary made a modest reply, but he would have none of it:

"I heard Mrs Traumayn will be giving a dinner in two weeks' time; I shall count myself among the first guests who will have the pleasure of hearing you. Lady Prescott will be here as well; she is our expert. I do take the liberty of warning you, Miss Bennet, that any comments that you might utter on this subject _she_ will amend; as for your performance, it will come under much scrutiny."

"If I am to play in front of an audience, I do hope that they should find the performance agreeable; but I do not pretend to much talent."

"Pray do, Miss Bennet!" Mr Bertram cried out. "Such modesty is quite commendable; but we are unable to appreciate it. I do know the people Mrs Traumayn has invited; we are an ignorant lot when it comes to music- with the exception of Lady Prescott, of course, who has gracefully informed us that she did not suffer from this deficiency. You must tell us that you have been practising scales ever since you were an infant; that you favour Italian over German songs. Your taste will be admired; you shall be lavished with praise, and Lady Prescott accordingly silenced."

"If I played with the mere purpose of being praised, I should follow your advice", Mary stated with gravity, "but I do not wish to have my vanity flattered. If sincere and measured praise is delivered, I should accept it gratefully; if criticisms are made, I shall accept them without resentment and strive to better myself." She frowned: "If extravagant praise is given meaninglessly, without knowledge of its object, I shall find no gratification in it; this is empty praise, and I would rather people to keep silent than to betray themselves."

'Then my assurance of joining the chorus of "Delightful!" and "Remarkable!" is of no comfort to you?" Mr Bertram inquired.

"You seem intent on thinking me a vain creature, Sir", Mary said sternly. "Let me assure _you _that I will remain untroubled, whether you praise me or not!"

"Very well, Miss Bennet; I promise to pay you as little compliments as possible; and to do so only after a great deal of deliberation."

* * *

"What a charming little piece", Mrs Traumayn said after Mary was done with the pianoforte.

"I do like it very much. I used to play it often at home", Mary answered. "Many mistake it for a light piece, and truly it is so in the beginning. Then I believe the composer thought it wanted shade; so you have the second passage, tinged with melancholy. Despite this slight darkness, it answers beautifully to the lighter theme. The construction is sound and clear; both passages merge in perfect harmony," she added. "It is a very simple piece, but I like it the better for this."

Mrs Traumayn went on talking of the dinner she would give. On this occasion, she felt that Miss Bennet should allow her to offer her a new dress:

"For you are dressed quite correctly, child, for an older woman; but you are not yet twenty."

"I have no beauty, Mrs Traumayn, which would warrant a more elegant dress. I have no taste for fashion and others marks of vanity..."

Mrs Traumayn, sensing a sermon coming, interjected:

"Then I beg of you, child, to think of the pride of others! The neighbours who shall attend my dinner will take pains to look elegant and fashionable; think of how ill-used they will feel if they do not suspect us to have devoted as much time and effort on our own appearance! They will look at you, knowing that you are a gentleman's daughter and my acquaintance, and believe you did not deem them worth the hassle!"

This was a new idea to Mary that anyone should care to feel ill-used by her behaviour.

"Besides, you need not fear of being coquettish, Miss Bennet; my salad days are over, but I still enjoy talks of lace and sprigged muslin. I shall be the coquettish one; and you the elegant young lady I know you to be."

So Mary found herself, the day the dinner was given, dressed in a gown made of fine blue muslin. Of the waistline, the embroideries, the sleeves, we shall say nothing, since Mary herself did not have much choice in the matter, Mrs Traumayn having undertaken the dealings with the seamstress and chosen the fabric herself, as she had rightly suspected that Mary would have thought it all much too extravagant. However, the result pleased Mary more than she expected: there was simplicity and taste in the form of the dress.

She stood, stunned, in front of the mirror. How strange that minor alterations could produce such effects! There was an elegant young lady. This was not Miss Mary Bennet, dowdy and overlooked; this was a Miss Bennet who looked the part.

Mrs Traumayn gave her an approving look. Miss Bennet, she thought, gave to much credit to the dress. In the way Mary unconsciously held herself; in her slightly rosy cheeks, which had lost their pallor; there was charm. A thin satin bandeau held her hair in place, framing her face most becomingly and enhancing the delicate features.

They came down to welcome the guests.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Mary, unused to being much sociable, had been made aware by Mrs Traumayn that being a newcomer, she would be the centre of the guests' attention. It was a relief to discover that sitting near her was a Mrs. Brereton who did not show much curiosity about Mary's circumstances. She would have enjoyed this better if the conversation had been of some substance; but it was markedly one-sided: Mrs Brereton informing Miss Bennet of such various items as the state of her garden, the impertinence of one chambermaid, or the carriage she owned. A lifetime in the society of her mother had trained Mary to display remarkable fortitude; she sat and ate her soup without trying to make sense of the noise Mrs Brereton made, and happily sat at the pianoforte when Mrs Traumayn encouraged her to do so.

She played a short piece that Mrs Traumayn had elected, light and bright enough to put the guests in good spirits. The atmosphere was comfortable; soon she forgot her audience. If Mrs Brereton and the misses Maddox whispered between themselves, she ignored it with equanimity, having been subjected in the past to louder slights. As she ended the piece, Lady Prescott declared that Miss Bennet's taste was good; and that if she handled more difficult pieces with the same aplomb that she had shown here, she would be thought quite proficient for one so young."

The others followed suit; but Mr Bertram remained quiet, which prompted her Ladyship to ask him for his opinion. He answered that he did not care for voicing his opinion after she had done so most eloquently. Lady Prescott insisted.

Mr Bertram adopted a grave expression:

"I found Miss Bennet's performance agreeable", he said at length.

"Why", her Ladyship exclaimed, "so cold a compliment! I thought you more gallant. Surely Miss Bennet deserves better appreciation."

Mary began to speak, protesting that she was very much satisfied with Mr Bertram.

"Miss Bennet", he added with his usual spirit, "cares very little for gallantry. She has set high standards for herself; she wants to be judged on her merits only. _Your _opinion, ma'am, she values, for you are knowledgeable in this matter. Alas, I have admitted earlier my ignorance of music to Miss Bennet. I would readily proclaim my raptures, if not for the fact that if I express them, she will believe me to pay her a compliment for the sake of gallantry alone. I shall thus remain in a state of moderate admiration."

"You are twisting my words, Sir", Mary said in mortification."I said I wanted your honest opinion."

"You do not believe I might have given it already?" he retorted.

"I do not, Mr Bertram. I suspect the truth may lie somewhere between unrestrained raptures and calculated approval", Mary replied drily.

Here Lady Prescott interfered to give her views on music, and composers, and critics. Mary spent the rest of the evening answering her questions; she would have expressed her own views too, but her Ladyship was more interested in bestowing them than in listening to others' thoughts. Despite this unequal exchange, or perhaps because of it, she left very satisfied, she would visit other neighbours during the week, with the news that Mrs Traumayn was a true lady, who kept a very good cook, while Miss Bennet was an unexceptionable musician, even more so than the Misses Maddox, who were thought the most accomplished ladies in the neighbourhood.

Mrs Traumayn thought the dinner to be a success. There had been no breach of manners in Mary, who had borne Mrs Brereton tolerably well. Her performance had been appreciated; conversation had flown; there would be soon more company in the neighbourhood, with Mr and Mrs Yates, their young friend, and Colonel Harrison's nephew.

She enjoyed observing people; these arrivals were bound to lead to some animation in the near future; and her protégée, though she was not aware of it yet, would be caught in this whirlwind of social obligation.

* * *

Elizabeth had taken Georgiana and Kitty with her to the bookshop, saying with a twinkle in her eyes that they ought not to let the parties they had attended turn their heads, and rather take some time to read and cultivate their minds.

Kitty would have been very bored indeed, if they had not met Mr Harding, who had been in the process of purchasing books for his sister.

"She is fond of novels", he answered to an enquiry of Kitty. "Persecuted heroines, suitably heroic heroes and treacherous villains do delight her; and the more thrilling the tale, the greatest her delight."

"Do you like novels, Mr Harding?" Georgiana inquired.

"They do divert me," he said, "though I do not read them the way my sister does. She shudders; I laugh. These stories make me grateful that we live in a civilized society where excesses such as those described remain quite uncommon."

"Laughing at them!" Kitty exclaimed. "You astonish me, Mr Harding. There are very noble feelings expressed in novels. Think of the devotion of Valancourt!"

"I believe, Kitty, that Mr Harding does not intend to slight novels; he means that as engrossing as they may be, you cannot expect reality to mirror them exactly, or people to behave in the same fashion as their heroes. There are works of imagination", Georgiana said.

"Why, I should think _life_ very dull indeed without imagination!"

"Certainly; my mother agrees with you. She is a great reader of novels herself; she says that she feels entitled to let her imagination run wild every now and then, as long as she remembers to give our cook orders for the venison stew", Mr Harding said with perfect composure.

Kitty pouted; Georgiana inquired after the well-being of Mr Harding's family.

"They are quite well, I believe. Their latest letter was quite reassuring on that point. My younger brother, Walter, informs me that he has made great progress in his studies, and that he knows all the Kings of England."

"You must be proud of him", Georgiana said with a smile. "He must be a very apt pupil."

Mr Harding gave a comical sigh:

"I wish I would not doubt it, Miss Darcy. It may be that his tutor has performed an admirable feat or that Walter has grown more studious over the course of four weeks; but I fear that he may have other interests at heart."

"What should make you think so?" Georgiana asked.

"Well, Walter also asks me if I would give him the permission to keep an adorable pup our neighbour Mrs Debenham has so obligingly offered him. I am also informed that our mother has already given her consent, on the condition that I should give it too. He then reminds me that he has been very studious of late, and to prevent my scepticism, he shall recite the complete list of English monarchs, at my convenience, when I am back home. What should I do, Miss Darcy?"

Kitty giggled; Georgiana, smiling, gave her advice freely:

"Master Walter's offer to give you a proof of his good faith is quite commendable. I should think that this would disarm suspicion; and such endeavours ought to be rewarded."

"It is settled, then", Mr Harding smiled back; "I should tell Walter that Miss Darcy has interceded in his favour."

* * *

From Georgiana Darcy to Mary Bennet:

I find Mr Harding most amiable, Mary. Unlike some gentlemen we have met, who can talk of nothing but horses and curricles; who seemed preoccupied only with items of fashion and gossip, he is quite open. He speaks of his family with genuine affection, I believe.

_(Here followed a transcript of their interaction):_

I found the picture of Master Walter quite droll. I have not met many young children; I cannot picture William or my Cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam as young boys, behaving like Master Walter. I know nothing of younger brothers; I wonder how having one would be like. Quite a departure, I should think, from being the younger one, relying on an elder brother's guidance; but I should not think it unpleasant.

Mr Harding's friend, the Earl of Hampstead, is very handsome and elegant. He is rather taciturn and keeps his thoughts to himself. Your sister finds him very disagreeable, but I do not fault him for being reserved. William has often being accused of being proud, which I wonder at, although I am aware that Mr Bingley has more open manners. Friendship between gentlemen works in obscure ways! This is why, although the Earl does not say much to me, I do not take offense at his silence; he has Mr Harding's good opinion, which is enough to recommend him.

* * *

"So we shall finally meet the Yates, the young lady they brought with us from London, and Colonel Harrison's nephew!" Mrs Traumayn said. "The Yates have already introduced their protégée to Lord and Lady Prescott- which is just as well, since Lady Prescott wanted the exclusivity of the first introduction, and she would have never forgiven anyone else for meeting her before she did."

Mrs Traumayn did partake in those tidy bits of gossip as she and Mary went to Mansfield Park, both invited to dinner.

Mrs Yates was a beautiful woman- then, all the members of the Bertram family were handsome-, fair and statuesque. It was obvious to Mary that Mr Yates admired his wife very much, and that _she_ condescended to let him do so.

They had met Miss Annabelle Sanders in London. Like Mrs Yates, Miss Sanders was dressed in the latest fashion; her golden curls attracted the light; she was all elegance.

John Harrison had open manners and a pleasing countenance.

This was all Mary could see as they were all introduced to each other; then dinner was served. Sir Bertram was still absent from Mansfield; Lady Bertram, as serene as ever, did little to entertain her guests. Also present were Colonel Harrison, Charles and Clara Maddox. The Yates directed the conversation; most asked them about their time in London. Mary, which soon realized there was little to be learnt from them save for the latest fashions in neck clothes or the names of high-ranking acquaintances, directed her attention to Susan. Both talked quietly until dinner ended.

This was the time for entertainment; Mrs Yates said that Miss Sanders was an exquisite musician. Miss Sanders took her seat at the pianoforte.

Mary began to listen with attention. She was surprised as she recognized the piece: it was quite long and, she thought, more designed to showcase one's talent than for entertaining the party. Miss Sanders had received training, this much was true; but Mary, while she saw her technique, could not help but sense that Master Walter would have declaimed the list of the Kings of England with more feeling than Miss Sanders put in her playing.

Time elapsed and stretched out, while Miss Sanders showed no signs of fatigue. With sudden clarity, Mary thought of the ball of Netherfield- had she been this way then? For the first time, she recalled the incident with some detachment- she saw that Miss Sanders, though more skilled than Mary had been at that time, was assuredly "exhibiting"- she could almost hear her Father's voice, though of course, no one would dare to tell Miss Sanders that she had delighted them long enough.

It ended, at last; Miss Sanders looked up demurely. The compliments were bestowed and received with the appearance of modesty (to Mary, Miss Sanders seemed to nourish no doubts about the quality of her performance). Mr Bertram said: "Delightful!" Their eyes met, Mary saw the laugh in them and turned her head, hoping he had not caught her thoughts.

She was surprised to be addressed to by Miss Sanders:

"Lady Prescott told us that you were quite skilled, Miss Bennet. I am afraid my own skills pale in comparison. I really wish to hear you play; would you?"

Mary was startled. She did not believe Miss Sander's claims; clearly she was confident enough in her abilities. She began to suspect that Miss Sanders' earlier display had been meant to impress their audience; to challenge Mary's own claims –or rather, Lady Prescott's- of being a superior musician.

"I am in a poor form tonight; I shall decline to play. You are too harsh on yourself, Miss Sanders; you displayed great skills indeed", Mary said, correctly surmising that the meaning of her later statement would be lost on Miss Sanders.

Miss Sanders accepted graciously Miss Bennet's refusal, feeling that she had been suitably intimidated.

"Then perhaps you will play, Miss Price?"

Mary felt a surge of indignation, her suspicions proved correct. The Yates must have told her of Susan's position; she could not have been uninformed of the early neglect of her education. Yet she had put her in a position where Susan could only admit her ignorance; and this, Mary deduced, only to have her own vanity satisfied! To get her accomplishments praised at the cost of others; how elegant this lady was turning out to be!

Susan was blushing:

"I do not play, Miss Sanders", she said, eyes turned downcast.

Mary felt the slight as keenly as Susan herself. She would not let Miss Sanders triumph; she could not let Susan feel inferior to so-called accomplished ladies:

"Miss Price does not play, but she sings beautifully", she intervened. "I hold this to be a greater achievement than playing alone. Playing requires our fingers to move with strength and rapidity, both can be achieved easily through regular practice; whereas a voice is a much more delicate instrument, subject to colds and sore throats."

This was not entirely a lie; Susan had a good ear for music; a strong, confident voice; and Mary had heard her humming very melodiously.

"Indeed? Shall you sing for us, Miss Price?" Miss Sanders countered.

"Miss Price and I are learning a new song."

(Now this was a lie.)

"As it is now, the performance should be restricted to the family circle and its leniency. If you please, we shall play the song another evening. You must forgive us, Miss Sanders; we cannot pretend to your talent."

Miss Sanders felt this was encouragement enough for a second performance.

"We shall rehearse in the future, then", Susan whispered.

"I daresay our audience will be prodigiously entertained", Mary deadpanned.

They exchanged a smile; though Mary could not be satisfied with their new acquaintance. There was a littleness to Miss Sanders that she could not approve of; she feared that Susan would be the target of other snubs; overall, she sensed that the presence of such mean-spirited people among their little group would not be conducive to harmony.

* * *

-_a question for those of you who understand the rules of propriety better than I: if, say, the mother of Mr Harding was to invite Kitty and Georgiana to sojourn at her house, would it be acceptable (if one considers she can be a chaperone?) Or is it a big "no" if they are not relatives? I have a plotline in mind, but I do not want to commit a social solecism._

_-Well, it seems like Mary has found her Miss Bingley, doesn't it? **Next chapter:** acquaintances from London visiting the country of Northampton, card games, ploys and schemes, haughty observers…_


	17. Of selfishness and busybodies

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan Price. Crossover with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

To the reviewers who took the time to review the latest chapter: thank you so much for the feedback! Replies to the reviews can be found on my forum, under the "Pride & Prejudice forums" category, subcategory "The Odd duck quest forum".

Some free time + peaceful day = a new chapter. Hope you'll enjoy!

* * *

Susan came two days later, bearing another invitation to dinner. She also brought the news that while Sir Thomas remained in London, he had given his consent for a ball at Mansfield.

"This should be quite the attraction of the neighbourhood," Susan added, "as Miss Sanders has assured us that she would persuade her brother to attend the event. He is an Earl, you know," she said in a light tone, recalling the falsely modest look on Miss Sanders' face as she had mentioned her brother's title.

"With so much new and elegant company, how entertaining the next weeks shall be," Mrs Traumayn remarked with a smile.

"I do not entertain much hope about it," Susan said to Mary as she left. "If the Earl is anything like Miss Sanders, I am afraid that you and I will not enjoy his company very much."

"Do not be so prejudiced, Susan," Mary admonished. "Miss Darcy, who has met him in London, writes that he is quite reserved. _We_ have not met him yet; to speculate on his character is a waste of time. All we know for sure about the gentleman is that he has a sister; well, he cannot help it."

Mary was gratified to see Susan giggle; and both thought no more of the mysterious Earl of Hampstead.

* * *

From Georgiana Darcy to Mary Bennet

Mr Harding and the Earl of Hampstead called on us to say their goodbyes. Mr. Harding must leave Town to attend to his family; the Earl has mentioned that he would visit his sister, who is staying with friends in the county where you are living. What a coincidence! You might meet; who knows?

They have left a void. How strange; we have met a great variety of people- yet I do not feel I know any of them at all. Mr Harding's company- well, the two gentlemen's company- was agreeable; I shall miss it.

* * *

Miss Sanders was endowed with so many advantages: beauty, connections, and a sizable dowry; that although she was already twenty-three, she was in no haste to marry. Other ladies might have dreaded to be thought, in a few years' time, "on the shelf", as the saying goes; but Miss Sanders was safe in the belief that she could pick and choose.

Mr Bertram was deemed a suitable candidate: his fortune, his rank, his houses pleased her- she would settle for no less. He was handsome and elegant, which spoilt nothing- what a fine couple they would make! His manners were easy; she did not know much yet about his character, but she had no reason to believe Mr Bertram immune to her charms. Once married, he could be persuaded to stay the better part of the year in London. With this scheme in mind, she began the conquest of Mr Bertram. It was a shame that she had to apply to her wry brother for his attendance of the Mansfield ball; but she was not one to scorn his consequence, which would increase her own in Mr Bertram's eyes.

* * *

Dinner was a rather tedious affair, as once again the Yates and Miss Sanders monopolized the conversation. Mr Harrison remembered that Miss Bennet's name was not unfamiliar to him:

"Are you acquainted with Miss Catherine Bennet and Mrs Darcy?" he asked Mary.

"I should hope so, since we are sisters," she answered.

Mr Harrison apologized profusely:

"I should have known that such lovely ladies were your sisters."

That was quite gallant of him, Mary thought, for her plainness could hardly have reminded him of the other Bennets- but she thanked him for the compliment.

After dinner, Mr Yates suggested card games; Mrs Traumayn claimed she cared little for Whist, Colonel Harrison endorsed Commerce, and others followed suit.

Susan watched with a frown as Miss Sanders linked her arm with Mr Bertram's and gave her cousin a flirtatious look which had bewitched many others before him, saying imploringly:

"I long to play Whist- shall we pair, Mr Bertram? Your sister tells me you are an excellent player; you must advise me."

Thus besieged, Mr Bertram could hardly refuse. Their opponents were the Yates; others tables were formed. At the only other table which played Whist, Mary was paired with Susan against Mr Harrison and Mr Maddox. As Mary quickly glanced at the other tables, she observed with disbelief Miss Sanders directing questions after questions at Mr Bertram about the rules of the game, and what Mr Bertram thought she ought to do, for she was quite at a loss and needed his guidance...

In this respect Miss Sanders was only obeying the guidelines many a sensible young lady followed: that is, to conceal as well as she could that she knew anything at all, so that she would be able to administer to the vanity of the gentleman whose attention she desired. Sadly, Mary was constitutionally unable to do so.

She looked away to focus on the game.

Meanwhile, Mr Bertram was decidedly put off. He had hoped to secure Miss Bennet as his partner – only to be thwarted by Miss Sanders in a way which made all escape impossible – and the more they played, the more annoyed he got, for Miss Sanders did not mind the game; Mr Bertram's competitive spirit despaired as the Yates, though poorer players, won tricks after tricks.

He glanced over at Miss Bennet's table. There she was, dealing cards with her usual earnestness. Although he was sure she must think the game devoid of utility, she could not do anything without seriousness, could she?- he thought with amusement.

Miss Bennet puzzled him. Had she known that Mr Bertram was equally mystified by her as she was by him, she would have been incredulous; but he had long understood that under her quiet demeanour, she behaved according to her own principles, refusing to be persuaded into acting and thinking the way others did unless you could put up a good, rational argument to convince her otherwise. He was used to others following his lead, or replying in kind to his nonsense and follies. Mary Bennet would do no such thing; she was determined to remain immune to flattery, and Mr Bertram had been made well aware that he ought to follow her example whenever he conversed with her, since she was not one to give undiscerning praise if she felt this was not deserved. How undeserving he must be in her eyes, he dared not to imagine. This was unfair, he felt, because he had gradually come to admire her.

She was not fearless (this he had witnessed with his horses), yet she was actively trying to overcome her fears: such perseverance commended his respect. She was a true friend to his cousin when no other ladies in the neighbourhood had endeavoured to do so; regardless of Susan's circumstances, she never treated her with any sign of condescension. Her mind was curious, ever-ready to learn; she challenged him with a candour he found himself oddly taken with. Over the course of their meetings, she had been increasingly expressive, to the point where Mr Bertram had caught himself thinking of the lovely glow the animation lent to her countenance more than once.

He started at the direction taken by his thoughts. At the same time, his attention was called back to the game; but no amount of Miss Sanders' cajoleries could erase the disconcerting realization that at some point of their acquaintance, he had looked into Mary Bennet's singularly thoughtful grey eyes –that there were depths he was now only beginning to comprehend- and now that he had seen them, the image could not be removed from his mind.

* * *

From Georgiana Darcy to Mary Bennet

Dear Mary,

You shall never believe me: Mrs Harding, the mother of Mr Harding, has written to invite Kitty and I to stay with the family at their residence in the countryside!

I was overwhelmed with such a mark of distinction- half-afraid I would not be allowed to go, and half-afraid I would be asked whether I wanted to go or not. However, my brother was ready to consent to my going- I am sure that your sister has interceded on my behalf- and when my opinion was requested, I heard myself say that I looked forward to it.

Mary, I will see him again; I will meet his family. I am anxious that they should like me; yet part of me still wonders...I cannot pretend I do not understand the point of this sojourn; this shall enable us to see more of each other, to see if we might suit.

Kitty has been very kind; she is ready to forgo London's pleasures for a while. I do hope she will enjoy herself as much as I at the Hardings'.

* * *

Georgiana's brother had been quite reluctant at first to let his sister accept the invitation; but Lizzy's words had prevailed. She understood her husband's protectiveness; but she pointed out the result of discreet inquiries, that Mrs Harding was a very respectable widow, whose husband had died three years ago, leaving Mr Hadrian Harding in possession of a considerable income (at least he was not a fortune-hunter) ; that Mrs Annesley had proved herself to be a more reliable chaperone than the wretched Mrs Younge; that Georgiana was now a far cry from the inexperienced child she had been at Ramsgate; and lastly, that Georgiana, who had always deferred to her brother's judgment, should be trusted to behave responsibly. This last argument had swayed Darcy.

* * *

Kitty's feelings were of a more mixed nature. London she was ready to leave without much regret, for she was increasingly aware that she would always remain a small fish in a big pond, and there was hope that at the Hardings', within a smaller circle, she would get noticed more. Also, she was genuinely happy for Georgiana's sake, for the blond girl's longing for Mr Harding had been quite obvious to her. However, she feared that the Hardings would show more consideration to Georgiana, and that their neighbourhood should do the same; while she dearly liked her friend, Kitty was still very young and very human. Overlooked among her other sisters (not as much as Mary, but that was hardly any consolation), she had once again felt herself pale in comparison of Georgiana. When would someone see her, only her, Kitty, with her flaws and qualities? She keenly felt that a few compliments on her pretty looks and fashionable clothes were the best she could hope for when one was surrounded by other ladies of superior breeding, elegance or understanding. Could she ever inspire such devotion, such feelings as those Mr Harding appeared to have for Georgiana?

Another matter of jealousy darkened her mood at the sight of the letter waiting for Georgiana. It had not escaped her notice that Georgiana and Mary were great correspondents. How come their intimacy seemed to deepen despite the distance while Georgiana did not confide in Kitty so much as before? What could Mary possibly write of interest to Georgiana when she had been nothing but dull for all the years Kitty had known her? And why hadn't Lydia written any letters for the past months, despite the hassle, when Mary and Georgiana wrote so freely?

* * *

From Mary Bennet to Georgiana Darcy 

Dear Georgiana,

I am inclined to think this invitation very useful to help you ascertain your regard for Mr Harding. Of course, the family shall be on their best behaviour to receive you, but I believe that the masks we might don in society hardly resist the intimacy of the family circle. In his natural element, you shall be able to observe him and to figure him out. This is an opportunity you cannot miss; how many couples are formed after too short an acquaintance! To me, a few balls and dinners are hardly enough to judge the character of a suitor- spending a lifetime with someone without knowing anything of his morals or habits is a risk far too many people take.

I do hope that you will find happiness, Georgiana.

* * *

Mary visited Susan and found her in the middle of rehearsing steps and figures.

"Mary, please, do help me!" Susan cried out. "My cousin wants me to open the ball with Mr Harrison, and I fear I shall never be ready in time."

"I would gladly practice with you if I could; but I barely know any steps. I am afraid I am no model for you," Mary said just as Mr Bertram entered the room.

"We all know your modesty, Miss Bennet," he said, "my cousin has no reason to believe that you lack talent in this area."

"Yet I do, Sir", Mary answered, "since this is an art I have not often practised. I confess my ignorance without regrets, since I do not think it a very useful art."

"I wonder at you, Miss Bennet, for I know you encourage practice in many pursuits. As for dancing, I admit that it is more frivolous than, say, reading; but you must admit that it is very useful to know in a ballroom."

Though it cost her to do so, Mary answered truthfully:

"The pursuit of this activity does not depend on my own volition. Back home, I have been sitting down for entire evenings more often than not; this gave me liberty to devote my energy to other pursuits, for I find that exertion should always be in proportion to what is required. Rehearsing dancing steps without purpose does not appeal to me; this shall account for my ignorance."

Mr Bertram looked at her thoughtfully for a moment then surprised her with his next words:

"Would you allow me the honour of your hand for the first two dances, Miss Bennet? You shall have several days to practice before the ball, and you are a quick learner. Surely you will not hurt my pride by refusing me," he said with a smile.

Mary was stunned into speechlessness (the novelty of being asked to dance almost robbing her of her wits). Susan could hardly contain her joy; but Mr Bertram saw Mary frown a little.

"I thank you, Sir, for your obliging offer," she replied, "but I must decline. Pray, do not believe I mentioned my sitting down for many dances so that you would take pity on me."

"This was not an offer made out of pity, Miss Bennet," Mr Bertram opposed.

"Then why are you asking? I can only think of three reasons other than pity which would induce you to ask me," Mary replied.

Leave it to Mary Bennet to look for a rational motive; to question every little thing instead of just accepting it, Mr Bertram mused warily.

"Which are these reasons, then?" he asked.

"The first one: you are being coerced into asking me, by well-meaning friends."

"I did not coerce my cousin!" Susan protested. "You do not know him well, Mary, for I do not think that anyone could coerce him into doing something he does not want to!"

Mr Bertram bowed with solemnity:

"Thank you, Susan, for attempting to convince Miss Bennet of my remarkable independence of mind."

"The second", Mary went on, "you are asking because of your own vanity."

"This does sound more like me, doesn't it?" Mr Bertram interjected.

"You want to stand up with a handsome lady as your partner, in front of the whole assembly."

"Exactly so!" Mr Bertram cried out.

Mary shook her head:

"I have no pretension to beauty, so this one is ruled out. The third one is not even worth mentioning, for it is impossible; so you see, Mr Bertram, than pity is your motive."

Mr Bertram, quite amused, begged to know the third reason. Mary yielded at last:

"The third one would be an indication of regard, which people are much too inclined to gossip and speculate about"- Susan pouted a little, but Mr Bertram only had eyes for Mary. "Admit it, Mr Bertram, you made this impulsive offer out of pity, and I should not take advantage of you."

"I would assure you most earnestly of my desire to dance with you, but you would not believe me, would you?" Mr Bertram asked feeling outwitted. Then, as struck by inspiration, he said with renewed good humour:

"Then would you be so inclined, Miss Bennet, to accept that I cannot bear the thought of you remaining in the ignorance of such fine an art as dancing; that I fully understand your reluctance to practice without a purpose; that I hoped you would view my offer as a purpose good enough. You scorned it; my pride was wounded; I can only appeal to your pity to undo the damage you caused it."

Mary blushed but held his gaze:

"You speak in jest, Mr Bertram; I do not believe it in my power to soothe your pride, let alone hurt it; but it would be very ungrateful of me not to accept your request after all the effort you put in convincing me that you were genuine in making it. I thank you for your pains."

"I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me," Mr Bertram replied at once.

Mary recognized the source; her eyes lit up and a smile blossomed on her lips. Mr Bertram saw these signs and felt himself smile in return. They were united in a common understanding, two lovers of a same play; when Susan exclaimed that she did recognize these words; did Miss Bennet know what her cousin was teasing them with?

The moment was broken; they hastily turned their gazes away from each other; Mary answered "yes, this was a reply from Much Ado; did Miss Price remember their reading it?"; Mr Bertram bowed and left. Mary ended up learning and practicing with Susan; both friends managed tolerably well over the course of the next days, enough to let Mary hope that Mr Bertram would not regret his kindness.

* * *

"Mrs Traumayn, I cannot accept!" Mary protested.

"La, child, this is only a small hair ornament. Let me lend it to you. There," she said as the maid arranged gracefully the strands of pearls in Mary's dark hair, "with your white dress, the effect will be stunning in the glow of candle lights. Lady Prescott will remark on your good looks and I shall take the entire credit for it."

"Isn't it strange," she went on, "what one might find in those oysters, if one cares to look beyond their shells?"

Mary smiled:

"Are you comparing me to an oyster, ma'am?"

"Did I say so?" Mrs Traumayn said. "Well, if this is the case, young gentlemen won't have to look hard, for the shell is gone. If you do not have you dance card full by the end of the evening, I know nothing of men!"

"Mr Bertram was kind enough to request my hand for the first two dances," Mary answered.

Mrs Traumayn gave a dignified snort:

"Then Mr Bertram is less of a fool than he appears to be." She looked at Mary appraisingly: "This shall recommend him to you, child, over the other gentlemen; for he did secure the first dances before seeing you in all your glory. He alone did care to look," she added cryptically.

* * *

As Mr Bertram, along with the Yates, welcomed the guests, Susan came down the stairs. She looked radiant in her simplicity, hazel eyes sparkling with unmitigated delight, and a single silver comb- present of her cousin- adorning her brown curls, quite unlike the feathered bandeau and open turban some ladies sported. In many ways Susan was very unfashionable, for she could not conceal her happiness- happiness which grew tenfold as she spotted Mrs Traumayn and Mary.

They exchanged pleasantries, Susan speaking with animation; as Mr Bertram made his way to them, Susan was exclaiming upon Mary's beauty.

"Say, Cousin, doesn't Miss Bennet look well?" she asked mischievously, unaware of the critical stare one of the young gentlemen nearby was levelling at her.

"Quite tolerable, indeed," Mr Bertram stated quietly, to the indignation of both Susan and Mrs Traumayn.

A sneaking suspicion entered Mary's mind:

"Are you in a state of moderate admiration, Sir?" she said, recalling their earlier discussions.

"Am I succeeding?" he replied.

She could not fight a smile. Mrs Traumayn and Susan had watched the scene with interest; thankfully, the dance was beginning. Susan took her place with Mr Harrison, Mary and Mr Bertram followed, and so did the other dancers.

Mary spent the first minutes minding the steps and the grace of the figures.

"You are dancing quite well, Miss Bennet," Mr Bertram said.

"Thank you, but it is still lacking," Mary replied.

"You shall have plenty of opportunities to practice," he assured. "Now, Miss Bennet, stop minding so much the perfection of your steps; I need all the assurance you can give me that I am an agreeable partner."

"I assure you that I find you perfectly adequate, Sir; but how do you suggest I do it?" she asked.

"A smile every now and then shall do, for a beginning," he grinned. With surprising ease, Mary did so, and it did not feel forced.

"There; Miss Bennet, we have fulfilled the first duties of dance partners," Mr Bertram stated with satisfaction.

"Which are they, Sir?"

"To appear as though we are enjoying each other's company, whether this is true or not."

"What about the others? I have no wish to be remiss in my duties if I can help it," Mary offered.

"I know," he said, "but I count on your curiosity; so I shall hold them until…"

They were separated by the figures of the dance; they circled each other and Mary asked:

"Until?"

He held her gloved hand in his own:

"Until another set of dances, of course," he answered as the dance ended.

They parted; she still feeling the slight pressure of his hand through the material of her glove. She dismissed the memory as Mr Harrison requested the honour of Miss Bennet's hand, and Mr Bertram was forced to invite Miss Sanders, the guest of his sister.

"How obliging of you, Mr Bertram, to invite Miss Bennet!" Miss Sanders said with empathy.

Mr Bertram did not appear to understand her insinuations, and replied that he thought it very obliging of Miss Bennet to have accepted him.

Miss Sanders let out a disbelieving laugh:

"_She _must have been very grateful. Surely she must not have had the honour of standing up with a true gentleman before- I must tell you, Mr Bertram, that your generosity in giving her so much consequence went not unmissed."

Mr Bertram smiled coldly:

"You credit me with too much generosity, ma'am. I assure you that my motives were entirely selfish."

Miss Sanders did not understand him; and instead of pursuing this line of conversation, she chose to comment on the size of the room and the number of people. Mr Bertram replied in kind, and when the dance ended, she thought she had entertained him well enough.

Susan bowed to Mr Maddox and hastened to join Mary and Mrs Traumayn. The crowd was dense and she moved slowly. She found herself behind two gentlemen engaged in a conversation: she recognized one back as belonging to Mr Harrison, and the other, dressed with superior elegance, she did not know.

"Sanders, you cannot come to this ball and not dance once! People have been expecting to meet you!"

(Sanders- so that was Miss Annabelle's brother).

"And so they did. They are staring now; if I dance, they will stare; if I don't, they will stare some more. Decisions, decisions!" a voice answered sardonically.

"There are delightful young ladies who have been eager to dance the whole week; shall you disappoint them?" Harrison pleaded.

"Why does no one ever ask them if they shan't disappoint me", his companion complained.

"I have met them; while I shall not praise the company of the Misses Maddox, let me introduce you to Miss Bennet, a charming lady with a serious mind; or to Miss Price, our host's young cousin, " Mr Harrison offered.

Susan awaited the gentleman's answer with bated breath, for which young lady, aware she is being discussed by two gentlemen, could resist the temptation to listen?

"Thank you very much!" he expostulated. "Miss Bennet is obviously a bluestocking; as for Miss Price, I have seen her. She looks pretty enough, I grant you; but she is a busybody in the making, which is bad enough. With her being just a child of sixteen or seventeen, with neither knowledge nor experience of the world, this makes her an ignorant busybody, which is worse- so, Harrison, I beg you to leave me alone and well."

Horrible, horrible man! To judge her so without having ever met her! Susan had been right; he was as bad as his sister, maybe even worse; and she hoped his haughtiness would leave the county as soon as the ball was over.

The Earl's voice grew cold:

"What is he doing here?"

Susan looked as another gentleman with black hair and piercing blue eyes made his entrance and was promptly introduced to the Bertrams and the Yates.

Mary and Mrs Traumayn, who were sitting nearby, were introduced to him in turn.

"Miss Bennet?" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"Lord Glowner" she answered with calmer spirits. She had recognized him right away; this was not his case. He found her quite changed- this was another woman, who held herself with newfound confidence. He still denied her any beauty, yet there was something that had not been there when they first had met, something infinitely more dangerous.

"Would you do me the honour of your hand for the next dance, Miss Bennet?" he asked.

This was an evening of wonders, Mary thought. However, she was not yet so changed- she had not forgotten Lord Glowner's arrogance or his rash driving which had almost injured Susan; so she curtsied daintily and refused him, arguing she was tired.

As propriety dictated that once a young lady had made this statement, she could not accept any other gentleman's offer to dance, Mr Bertram did not make a new attempt as he had intended to. Meanwhile, Susan had joined them, been introduced to Lord Glowner, and again introductions were made as the Earl and Mr Harrison acknowledged Lord Glowner and bowed to the others.

"Do you dance, Miss Bennet?" Mr Harrison asked. At Mary's reply, he turned to Miss Price:

"Then Miss Price will see no objection to dance with my friend. You must accept, Miss Price, you are such an excellent dancer?" Mr Harrison said with determination, to the horror of both Susan and the Earl.

The Earl bowed with perfect civility and asked for the honour of Miss Price's hand. He could have fooled her, but Susan knew better. Still smarting from the injury, she took a leaf out of Mary's book, schooled her features into cold politeness, curtsied demurely and begged his Lordship to excuse her, for she was too tired to dance.

As she was the picture of health and energy, this statement was met with incredulity. The Earl took some time to recover, bowed and left.

"Why did you refuse him, Susan?" Mary asked once they were seated alone.

Susan explained in great detail what she had overheard, ending with:

"It is a pity he is so good-looking; but you were right when you told me that good looks did not always go with a good character. But tell me, why did you refuse Lord Glowner?"

Mary left nothing out of her retelling of her meeting Lord Glowner; and both ladies agreed that sitting together, exchanging spirited comments and observing all the goings-on in the ballroom, was much more enjoyable than dancing with such gentlemen.

Under other circumstances, balls had ended with slighted young ladies; this time, the evening ended with the more unusual occurrence of two slighted gentlemen who found themselves unable to nurse their pride.

* * *

-_as always, feedback is very welcome! I'll love to have your thoughts on this- by the way, there are some slight paraphrases of other Austen novels, if you care to look for them ^^ _

_-next chapter: a few verbal skirmishes for Mary and Susan; Kitty and Georgiana meet new acquaintances and Kitty finds Mary a suitor (or does she?)_


	18. Of understanding and meddlers

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan Price. Crossover with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

Thanks to all the kind reviewers; as usual, I have replied of the forum. Hope you'll like this chapter!

* * *

From Mary Bennet to Georgiana Darcy

Dear Georgiana,

My expectations were quite low; but in spite of them, I was exceedingly diverted by the ball. Now that I have joined the crowd of the dancers, I begin to understand the excitement my sisters always appeared to feel whenever a ball was given. Mr Bertram and Mr Harrison asked me to dance; both were very attentive partners; even Lord Glowner, whom I have met in London, was here- accompanying his friend Mr Harrison who is currently visiting his uncle, Colonel Harrison- and asked me to dance! I was stunned by this abundance of requests- this is abundance to me, for back home I either observed the dancing pairs or I played lively tunes for my sisters to dance reels with officers. (Writing this, I cannot help but feel some dismay at enjoying so much these innocent but frivolous activities- am I turning into Kitty?)

The Earl of Hampstead was here too; your description of him was quite accurate. However, I cannot share your optimism regarding his finer qualities; for Susan overheard him, talking to Mr Harrison, making disparaging comments on people he had not even been introduced to. Poor Susan did not escape his critical eye; although she tried to hide her hurt pride, she was much chagrined. I have noticed that, despite her confidence in her practical abilities, she struggles with the dread that her manners still lack the polish elegant society requires. This is why I am quite cross with your Earl, dear Georgiana; I can only hope that this man who was so quick to form this erroneous impression of my dear friend, unaware of her sound principles and good heart, did not ignore the merits of my other dear friend. Well, even if he did ignore them, at least Mr Harding is ready to do yours justice, and this endear him to me.

* * *

From Georgiana Darcy to Mary Bennet

Dear Mary,

I am so glad that you enjoyed the ball. However, I am a little puzzled, as I recall one of your precedent letters. Let me explain myself. First, I must make the observation that the enjoyment one feels is very much linked to the company one keeps- then, you admitted yourself that Mr Bertram was an agreeable partner. This is why I confess to some curiosity regarding Mr Bertram. A few letters back, you wrote that he was a most irksome man, and that you were resolved to avoid his society- must I understand that you have reconsidered your first impression of him? After your latest letter, _I_ have; as unforgivable Mr Bertram is for wanting to convert his library into a billiard room, he seems to pay you the attention I know you deserve; so forgive me, dear Mary, if this endears him to me in spite of his other faults.

(All ladies I know do enjoy a ball; I think it would take a much more radical change in your habits to turn you into Kitty. Both of you have very distinct characters; both of you are charming in your own right. There is no comparison to be made.)

I am very sorry to learn this about the Earl. Could it be a misunderstanding? I should feel sorry to think so ill of a friend of Mr Harding. However, Miss Susan has a true friend in you; I know that your esteem shall help her ignore these hurtful comments.

The journey to the Hardings was uneventful. The reception of his family was warm and I was relieved that Mrs Harding made no distinction in her way of addressing Kitty and me, for I was quite tongue-tied and anxious. Mrs Annesley, acting as our chaperone, was a great help in answering the questions on our journey; Mr Frederick talked a great deal to Kitty about the neighbours and his horses and Master Walter was eager to show us his new pup. Miss Eleanor was watching me intently at first, but she was very decided that Kitty and I should feel welcome, and her conversation was most agreeable. Mr Harding was very civil; he made sure to include everyone in his talks and diverted the attention from me. I felt more at ease than I had expected to be- I hope the first impression I made did not disappoint his family.

* * *

"I am pleasantly surprised by Miss Darcy," Mrs Harding stated, aware that her son was anxious to know her first impressions. "Your friend warned me that she was cold and aloof, but it seems to me that this stems from shyness rather than pride."

Hadrian Harding looked indignant:

"Cold, indeed! Mother, you ought to know better than to believe in Sanders' infallibility!"

"I hold him to be quite sharp and a good judge of character," she said gently.

This did not appease her son:

"A good judge of character, perhaps; but you must admit that he sometimes fail to understand the most delicate feelings!"

Mrs Harding was inclined to indulgence:

"It is a shame that he has not been accustomed to such delicacy of feelings with his sister and many ladies of his acquaintance, I own; indeed, with all the matchmaking ploys he had to endure, I cannot blame him for being cynical. Let's hope that he shall be cured from this universal distrust."

"I wish he shall not come to regret such hasty judgments," Mr Harding added. "Miss Darcy might have spoken very little when they met; but not all of us are blessed with the easy manners some display in the very first stages of their acquaintances. Indeed, if one had to form a judgment so soon, it would be universally agreed that Sanders himself is an unsociable bore."

* * *

Lord Glowner was still reeling from the shock of his second meeting with Miss Bennet. Both times she had been cold and indifferent; his title, his rank, his good looks, his condescension to notice her had been spurned. His lordship was not used to such treatment. He was rankled by this indifference; this time, even more so, for Miss Bennet was no more the mousy country miss he had seen in London. This Miss Bennet was greatly improved- there had been poise and distinction in her person. This Miss Bennet, Lord Glowner vowed, he would impress- his pride would not suffer another rebuff from her. With this object in mind he called on Mrs Traumayn- only to be received by this lady alone, and learn that Miss Bennet was out riding with Miss Price and Mr Bertram.

* * *

Susan Price was not one to feel dejected for too long; besides, her spirits were lifted by Miss Bennet and her cousin. Dancing, she thought, was a very good way of promoting affection between partners; a promising first step to encourage intimacy. Riding together, now that Miss Bennet was becoming an adept horsewoman, was also an opportunity for her to look for the inklings of an inclination, from one side or the other.

"You have made great progress," Mr Bertram suddenly said.

"I had a very good teacher," Mary replied.

Mr Bertram looked surprised:

"A compliment, Miss Bennet! Beware, we have an eyewitness," he winked at Susan.

Mary was unfazed:

"I shall give praise where praise is due, Mr Bertram; but if you go on like this, I shall refrain from doing so in the future."

"Then I shall say no more, for I do wish for such a remarkable occurrence to occur again," Mr Bertram replied.

"If this occurs again, then the occurrence will not be so remarkable," Mary objected. "Indeed, one might argue that in becoming so unremarkable, such praises would lose their value. If you get accustomed to them, you shall grow tired of them too."

"Trust me, Miss Bennet, when I say that one never gets tired of hearing praises. I shall treasure yours- feel free to bestow them as often as you think they are due."

Mary shook her head and unexpectedly urged her horse to go faster. What had come over her, she did not know- but as her horse broke into a gallop, she felt again the increasingly familiar sensation of running free along with the cool breeze, breathing with a new ease, while holding leisurely the reins.

Startled at first, Mr Bertram quickly followed her pace, while Susan remained behind. They stopped in front of the stables; Mary still breathless from the speed, her color heightened, eyes brightened, and her chignon quite undone. She chanced a glance at Mr Bertram; he was staring at her.

"Oh dear," she said ruefully, "I must look quite a fright. Please, Mr Bertram, do not stare at me so; it is truly intimidating."

Mr Bertram recovered and replied truthfully:

"It is true that you are disheveled, Miss Bennet; there is only one way if you do not wish to look such a fright and search lost pins."

"Which is?" Mary asked.

"To sit on a still horse."

Mary let out a laugh:

"This is all very well, but this defeats the purpose of exercising, doesn't it?"

"I could not agree more. We would not want this, would we?"

He dismounted and offered Mary his help, as usual. The first times, Mary had been rigid, paralyzed with fear and awkward; then, as their lessons progressed, these moves had become easier and quite natural. However, this time, Mary felt a new awareness of his proximity- how close he was; how his eyes, filled with mirth, softened as they met hers, with an emotion she could not identify- then the moment was gone, leaving her with the frustrating notion that something she could not comprehend was happening.

* * *

It was a cloudy, chilly day; so the guests of the Hardings did not dare to venture outdoors.

"If the weather is clement tomorrow, we shall be pleased to show you the landscape. There are a few sights which might be of interest to you, Miss Darcy, as an artist," Mr Harding said.

"Do you draw, Miss Darcy?" Miss Eleanor asked. "I would have liked to learn, but I lack the talent and the patience." She frowned. "I am afraid our landscapes are not quite picturesque, though."

"You surprise me," Kitty said, "from what we saw in the carriage, I would have thought that this place was quite pleasing to the eye."

"What my sister means is that we are sadly devoid of menacing cliffs and desolated lands, which in her mind qualify as picturesque. Green pastures and blooming trees are too tame to her liking," Mr Harding teased.

"I am sure that this shall prove picturesque enough to me," Georgiana said smilingly. "Besides, I do not limit myself to landscapes; drawing portraits is also challenging."

"Do you, Miss Darcy? Oh, would you mind drawing my portrait? I should like that very much," Miss Eleanor cried out.

"I should like to make an attempt," Georgiana answered, for Miss Eleanor had a lovely expressive face.

"Before you generously commit yourself to capture Eleanor's likeness, Miss Darcy, let me warn you that she is very restless and cannot be expected to stay still for a very long time."

"Brother!"

"I shall take the risk, Sir," Georgiana replied.

Kitty remarked on the harp she had seen. Miss Eleanor smiled brightly and took upon herself to entertain them with a few melodies.

"How uncommon!" Kitty exclaimed. "The only instrument all ladies of my acquaintance can play is the pianoforte. How did you come to learn to play the harp?"

"Mama wanted me to learn music; Hadrian was talking of ordering a pianoforte, but it was discussed during dinner while his friend, the Earl of Hampstead, was in attendance. I asked him to advise Hadrian in his purchase, for he is a great musician himself, you know."

"He is a great lover of music, this is well-known," Mr Harding amended, "but he never performs in front of strangers. However, we made the mistake of soliciting his opinion."

Miss Eleanor resumed her tale:

"He said that he was of the mind that there were too many ladies who played the pianoforte with unnecessary flourishes, poor technique and an utter lack of sentiment; that he could barely listen to such performances without getting a headache forming; and that out of all the instruments for me to play, he recommended the harp. He said that if I turned out to lack the talent, at least I had the advantage of originality over the pianoforte, and that many future performances would be redeemed to the eyes of my audiences by this factor alone," she parroted solemnly in a very good impression of the Earl.

"It was said in jest, I assume, after my friend's sensibilities had suffered one time too many mediocre concerts, but Eleanor took it to heart," Mr Harding explained ruefully. "Sanders does love to make long-winded speeches."

This explained a lot about the gentleman, Georgiana thought, and did not do him favours when the target of such speeches was in his vicinity (if she recollected Mary's letter well enough.)

* * *

Mrs Harding enjoyed playing the hostess. To ensure that her guests' stay would be agreeable, she hosted a dinner to introduce them to the neighbourhood. They would not be in lack of entertainment!

Kitty, feeling quite delightful in a new coral dress, was eager to make new acquaintances- although she had found a kindred spirit in Miss Eleanor, Mr Harding was Georgiana's; while he did pay her some attention and included her in their talks, she would not be a third party to their duo. She must find herself some other companions during her stay.

The guests were pleasing people with good manners, but Kitty found few people of her age. There were the curate and his wife, an elderly, reserved couple; the Debenhams, a middle-aged, talkative couple; Mrs Fairhill, a widow who doted on her niece, a vivacious young lady named Louisa; and two young men: a Mr Clifford, with agreeable features and fashionable clothes; and a Mr Campbell, plain and staid, who was the local physician.

Kitty was drawn to Louisa's talks of assemblies and parties. In Miss Fairhill's expression, there was something reminiscent of Lydia, though more subdued- and Kitty, who had been missing her young sister of late, was unexpectedly warmed by the familiarity.

Mr Clifford looked at her in admiration and paid her well-worded compliments which she welcomed gratefully. Soon the third of them were talking with animation, and Kitty was invited to an excursion which had been planned for the day after tomorrow.

"Do you ride, Miss Bennet?" To Kitty's timid assent that she was no great horsewoman, but she could ride, Mr Clifford resumed "We would be happy to lend you a horse. We are planning a small excursion, to enjoy the sights and stop for a picnic. Quite a simple affair. We would be honoured to have you among us."

Kitty blushed prettily and thanked them; she would have to check first with her hostess, and Mrs Annesley…

"They can have no objection," Mr Clifford said confidently. "Why, Mrs Fairhill will come with us! But I understand you, Miss Bennet, and I shall visit tomorrow quick as the wind to get your answer!"

Such resolve could do him no disfavour in Kitty's eyes.

To the others she said very little. At some point, when Louisa brought the topic of the next assembly, she saw Mr Campbell near them and generously remarked that: "she had no doubt that the assembly would be very pleasing in this neighbourhood; did Mr Campbell concur?"

Mr Campbell looked bemused:

"If you enjoy dancing, Miss Bennet, then I daresay that our assembly shall meet your expectation, as any assembly in the countryside is bound to do."

"But _this_ assembly should be so much more pleasing in this company!" Kitty said warmly.

"Indeed," Mr Clifford exclaimed, "let me prove it to you that your expectations shall not be disappointed, for I claim the first set of dances with you, Miss Bennet!"

"Mr Clifford is kind enough to vouch for all of us. As he is our finest dancer, I do not doubt that you shall find the dance quite pleasing," Mr Campbell said quietly.

"Why should he vouch for all of you? Won't you ask us to dance, then, Mr Campbell?" Miss Fairhill asked archly.

"Indeed, we dearly love to dance," Kitty added.

"If this is so, I shall regretfully decline. I am not a dancing man and my clumsiness would spoil your pleasure."

"If you spent as much time on dancing as you do on reading, you could oblige these ladies," Mr Clifford admonished.

Mr Campbell bowed in silence and did not answer.

"What a pity!" Kitty said later to Georgiana. "Bookish, drab and serious; Mr Campbell would have done wonderfully for Mary!"

"Kitty!" Georgiana remonstrated.

"Oh, I did not say it in a mean-spirited way! Poor Mary had so few opportunities to meet anyone- not that she cared to- and it feels such a waste to meet a young man who seems to share so many interests with her, without being able to introduce them!"

"You are quite the matchmaker, Kitty," Georgiana giggled in spite of herself.

Kitty stopped and recalled her words.

"Oh dear," she sighed, "I sounded like Mama, didn't I? Still, you cannot make me regret what I said- only think, Georgiana: I meet such a promising potential suitor for her, when she is all alone in her county of Northampton! How vexing!"

* * *

"Miss Bennet, Miss Price, would you care to join us for a walk?" Mr Harrison said.

The party consisted of the Maddoxes, the Sanderses, Lord Glowner, Susan and Mr Bertram.

Susan gave Mary a sheepish smile; they had intended to study music together (especially in case someone did remember the promised song), but with so many young ladies and gentlemen around, eager to spend time together, the peace was bound to be disrupted.

Both ladies agreed.

"Miss Bennet, there are a few ditches on the path- let me assist you," Mr Bertram said, while Lord Glowner simultaneously proffered his arm.

Mary looked in confusion from one gentleman to another.

"I thank you both, but I am not yet so advanced in years as to require your assistance for such a mundane act as walking."

"One advantage of living in the countryside and exercising so much, I am sure, Miss Bennet," Miss Sanders intervened; "but I do not have your robust constitution, and I shall appreciate a gentleman's offer."

At her look, Mr Bertram felt compelled to offer his arm with as much good grace as he could muster; Miss Sanders took it, but she was miffed to be second best to Miss Bennet.

Mary elected to walk besides Susan, still puzzled by those marks of attention; unaware that Miss Sanders would now directly target her as she was wont to do to any ladies who had the misfortune of getting noticed to her expenses.

"Mr Harrison told us that you were related to Mrs Darcy, Miss Bennet. I was introduced to her in London. What a brilliant match she made! How proud you must be of her elevation."

"Mr Darcy is a true gentleman, and their union a very happy one," Mary answered cautiously.

"Indeed," Miss Sanders assented, "it is no wonder that your sister caught the attention of Mr Darcy; _she_ is a fine-looking woman."

Mary ignored the aspersions on her own looks and replied wryly that she believed Mr Darcy held her sister's character in great esteem:

"For I should be sorry to think him acting under such flimsy considerations as my sister's beauty."

"_You_ would think so, of course," Miss Sanders replied pleasantly.

Mary did not understand what warranted this attack; she kept her composure intact and plastered an equally insincere smile on her face:

"I understand you; indeed, my possessing no beauty was a blessing in disguise. However, how vexing for _you_ if gentlemen were only paying you attention for your graceful exterior!"

Mr Bertram opened his mouth to speak, but he was beaten to the mark by another gentleman:

"Miss Sanders cannot enjoy such attentions," Lord Glowner said, "and neither would you, Miss Bennet. It is a risk for _both_ of you that your beauty alone might encourage the wrong sort of admiration; but I beg you to believe that not all gentlemen are such fools as to ignore the value of truer virtues."

Mary was agreeably surprised by this speech and the earnest tone in which it was delivered.

"Cousin, will you say nothing? I am surprised at you, and at the other gentlemen," Susan said playfully. "Is Lord Glowner the only one with such admirable principles?"

Mr Harrison, Mr Maddox and Mr Bertram protested: the first said that he found all ladies equally charming, the second that he would not wrong their characters by valuing their charms only; the third, less satisfactorily (to Susan) stated that he would not profess admirable principles when in the vicinity of Miss Bennet, for fear of being ridiculed by a lady who was not so easily convinced.

"Did _I_ not persuade _you_?" Lord Glowner said in a low voice to Mary who did not understand him.

Susan did, however; she glared at him (to which he paid no heed, unlike another wry and silent gentleman) and said:

"Come, Miss Bennet, we shall ask Mr Maddox about the ball the Prescotts are rumoured to host next month."

They took off; groups formed and parted. As Mary went back to Mrs Traumayn, Lord Glowner and Mr Harrison returned to the Colonel's, and Mr Bertram and Mr Maddox were left alone to the mercy of Miss sanders and Miss Maddox, Susan, trailing a little behind, was surprised to be accosted by the Earl.

"Miss Price."

"Lord Hampstead," she answered properly with no small amount of surprise.

The Earl went straight to the point:

"Miss Price, may I suggest that you cease your matchmaking attempts and instead turn your attention to other pursuits- netting purses, screening tables, or some other kind of accomplishment? They might not offer such excitement but they do have the merits of being more innocuous."

"I do not understand you," Susan began.

The Earl shot her a quelling look:

"I am referring to your attempts to promote a match between your cousin and your friend Miss Bennet. Do you deny it?"

She blushed fiercely. The thought that he was confronting her on his sister's behalf led her to answer in a conciliatory manner:

"I understand that you have the interests of your sister at heart."

"The interests of my sister?" he questioned. "Oh, of course, brotherly duty, if not affection, should encourage me to have her interests at heart, if I did not have the conviction that _she _bests me on that matter."

Susan listened to him with growing confusion:

"Then, my lord, I do not understand your concern. I do not see that I am doing any wrong- what is wrong with wishing the happiness of my friends? "

"Noble intentions, Miss Price- but I loathe all kinds of meddling and by extension, all kinds of meddlers," the Earl asserted. "In my experience, the ones who run interference in other people's affairs do so not out of kindness, but to puff them up- to feel themselves of consequence."

"I understand why in your eyes, I must be in need of this," Susan said bitterly.

"I do not question your intentions," the gentleman said belatedly, realizing he had upset her. "However, let me advise you that meddling does more harm than good to all parties involved. You are quite young, and as your elder..."

"And my better?" Susan bristled. "I thank you, my lord, for the advice you have condescended to give; but I have at heart the interests of those who are dear to me, and shall not be deterred to try and ensure their happiness."

She curtsied and went back to Mansfield Park. The odds were stacked against her: Miss Sanders had obviously set her cap on her cousin, Lord Glowner had looked at Mary with a strange insistence; finally, this high-and-mighty Earl was scorning her endeavours to bring them together! She could not, she would not let him win; if nobody seemed to understand that happiness warranted a great deal of work, she did. If this was meddling, then she would meddle to her heart's content!

(He loathed meddlers, did he? Well, it was a good thing that she cared very little for his good opinion, then! Susan thought resentfully.)

* * *

_Next chapter: emerging rivalries and altered first impressions (not for everyone though…)_


	19. Of falls and double meanings

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan Price. Crossover with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

Big thanks to all the reviewers! Replies can be found on my forum.

* * *

The Earl was in a foul mood. Out of all his grievances, one was not easily dismissed, and she went by the name of Miss Susan Price. The night of the ball, she had caught his eye straightaway.

_Quite unsophisticated, to be sure- extraordinarily artless- she was exuding raw energy and was smiling so brightly she effortlessly eclipsed all the other simpering misses…How transparent her face was! From the looks she was giving her cousin and her friend, she intended to pair them up. It was a wonder that nobody had picked this up already, for she was far too easy to read._

From local gossip he had learnt of her circumstances- this certainly accounted for this alarming straightforwardness. There seemed to be no one to teach her how to navigate the tortuous waters of good society- Sir Bertram, he understood, was often absent; Lady Bertram struck him as being the most serene lady he had ever met; as for Bertram, whose seemingly ever-present joviality grated on his nerves, he highly doubted that he would advocate prudence and restrain to anyone. In their latest outing, the Earl had noticed that Miss Price had not given up on her matchmaking attempts, despite (or because of?) his sister's and Glowner's manoeuvres. Out of kindness, he had taken upon himself to advise her against getting embroiled in such schemes- he knew firsthand that Annabelle could get nasty when she was thwarted, and he trusted Bertram to be man enough to escape her clutches.

The impish young lady's answer had been infused with ingratitude for this gracious advice; she had clearly stated that she would pay him no heed. His lordship was a man made of sterner stuff, but he was not used to dealing with young ladies who spoke their minds. He was a master at uncovering treachery and could issue cold set-downs whenever he was faced with devious opponents; but Miss Price, with her offensive (yet refreshing) directness had thoroughly unsettled him.

As he walked, he found himself coming face-to-face with Lord Glowner, which did nothing to improve his already foul mood. A curt nod was given from each side.

"I see you are not in Harding's company. I hear that he is courting a beautiful heiress."

Glowner's mocking eyes taunted him:

"It did not take him long to recover from the sorrow of his parting with Miss Rickman. Thirty thousand pounds could alleviate any man's sorrow anyway."

"You are familiar with slander, aren't you?" the Earl replied disdainfully.

"Slander? Have you considered that being Rickman's closest friend, I would know exactly what happened?" Lord Glowner stressed the words meaningfully.

"You would know, wouldn't you?" the Earl shot back.

Lord Glowner paused for a moment:

"Do you want Rickman to share the story with Harrison? We shall see how _he_ shall judge Harding's conduct."

The implied threat was not lost on the Earl.

"Let us be civil, for everyone's sake- and keep the matter private, as it should be."

"Well-spoken," Lord Glowner replied.

* * *

This was a sunny day for a promising excursion, Kitty thought. True to his words, Mr Clifford had called on to renew his offer; she had been allowed to join his group, with the attendance of Mr Frederick, Mrs Harding's second son.

Miss Fairhill's gaiety set the tone of the company- Kitty felt herself falling back into old patterns, following the lead of someone more exuberant than she. A Miss Halifax rode with them, hanging on every word, and looking quite amazed at being admitted into such an elegant circle; Kitty providing her share of the entertainment with colourful descriptions of London's assemblies. Once or twice Mr Clifford galloped in front of them, claiming that his horse needed the exercise then he went back to the ladies. Kitty admired his masterful stance and billowing cloak, irresistibly recollecting the image of a valiant hero riding to his love's rescue.

Miss Fairhill was growing restless:

"Why, what a fine rider you are, Mr Clifford! I am no meek horsewoman either- what do you think of a race?"

Mr Clifford was doubtful, but Miss Fairhill was headstrong and her excitement was picked up by her horse. A sense of foreboding entered Kitty's mind:

"Pray, Miss Fairhill, be prudent! This road is not safe for a race!" she entreated her.

Miss Fairhill scoffed- once again, Kitty was reminded of Lydia. She took off, leaving them all startled. She was no great horsewoman and her hold on the reins was tenuous; they watched in horror as she suddenly lost her balance, fell and hit her head. Miss Halifax shrieked; Kitty covered her mouth in shock. They dismounted, Mr Frederick and Mr Clifford hastened towards her. Kitty found herself between Miss Fairhill's aunt, who had stepped out of the carriage and was succumbing to a fit of hysterics, and Miss Halifax who was crying helplessly.

_She_ was shocked; she felt she could root on the spot, but to her own amazement, her mind was working clearly. Mr Clifford had brought back Miss Fairhill's horse, and was running in agitation his hands in his hair, repeating "What to do? What to do?"; Mr Frederick, crouched down next to the unconscious young woman, was unsuccessfully trying to call her back to attention.

The fourteen-year old's eyes met Kitty's in dismay. There was no one among them to take the lead under such dire circumstances; and only two of them had not lost their wits entirely. Kitty had always favoured action over reflexion- she did not dwell on her own feelings. She was able to ignore Mrs Fairhill's and Miss Halifax' hysterics- eighteen years in the company of her mother made one immune to such wailing- , correctly surmising that Miss Fairhill was the only one in need of real assistance.

"A doctor, we need a doctor!" she choked out. "Mr Frederick"- he was a good rider and a look at the distressed Mr Clifford persuaded her not to entrust him with too delicate a task "do you know where Mr Campbell lives?"

"I do; I shall fetch him right away!"

"Do not forget to tell him exactly what happened to Miss Fairhill, and be as quick as you can!"

She then requested Mr Clifford's assistance in moving carefully Miss Fairhill on the side, and she sacrificed her new shawl to cushion her injured head. Mr Clifford paled at the sight of the blood; so did Kitty, but she was peeved at the sheer unhelpfulness of the gentleman. In exasperation, she tended to Miss Fairhill herself and sent him to appease the other ladies. She doubted that he would calm them, but this was a case of choosing the lesser evil.

Miss Fairhill briefly regained consciousness as Kitty maintained a steady flow of conversation- _this_ she was adept at. Her eyes were glazed over, but Kitty felt some comfort in the fact that she was not lifeless. It was some time before Mr Campbell arrived, though to be fair, Mr Frederick had made haste. The young physician took over, focused and efficient: Kitty answered his questions mechanically. She was relieved to find him clear-headed and purposeful. He wasted no time in telling them that as per Mr Frederick's indications, they had arranged for Miss Fairhill to be transported in a carriage; the Debenham's house, which was close, would host her. He went on and disposed of Mr Clifford by asking him to escort Mrs Fairhill and Miss Halifax in their carriage. He asked Kitty to stay with him and Miss Fairhill for the time being; he congratulated Frederick for his efficiency and sent him home to tell his family the news, account for Miss Bennet's absence and arrange a carriage to retrieve her later. All of this was made so fast, with such authority, that nobody protested the plans.

In the carriage, then at the Debenhams' house, they exchanged few words save for him quietly giving instructions and her following them. He was not loud, concise in his words and gestures; but he managed to pierce the fog of her mind. In spite of the anxiety the situation warranted, she was reassured by his silent competence. In the midst of the turmoil, of servants rushing in and out of the room with hot water and bandages, of Mrs Fairhill and Miss Halifax claiming words of reassurance for their nerves, he stood without his concentration being shaken and Kitty did her best to match his efficacy.

At last Miss Fairhill, while still weak and affected by her fall, did show some signs of recovery.

"You were a great help, Miss Bennet; I cannot thank you enough for your assistance," Mr Campbell said at last.

She nodded, feeling tired. He looked at her with a frown:

"Pardon me; I am inconsiderate. You have not paused for a moment since the accident- you are shocked, I shall ask the servants to bring you hot soup."

Kitty thanked him for his concern, to which he replied remorsefully:

"I should have been concerned much earlier- I fear I have taken advantage of your kindness, Miss Bennet. Yet I could not ask the others," he trailed off out of courtesy for her companions.

Kitty smiled- oh she understood him!

"Yes, I believe they were very much distressed. My insensitivity allowed me to be more of service," she joked.

"Miss Fairhill owes you a great deal," he said warmly. "From what Mr Harding told me, you displayed an invaluable presence of mind."

Kitty blushed under his praise. All of a sudden, she felt more gratification in this compliment than in all the other gallantries other gentlemen had bestowed upon her. This was a man, she felt, whose good opinion had to be earned- a man (although she had deemed him plain and staid only two nights before) who was worthy of admiration.

Later, at the Hardings', she narrated the accident to her audience, but her mind was elsewhere. She went to bed in a state of confusion, all her first impressions of Mr Campbell erased to be replaced with an infinitely more flattering picture of the gentleman.

* * *

Mr Clifford called the next day. He was bringing news of improvement for Miss Fairhill. He spoke eloquently of the evils which had befallen their poor excursion, and after a suitable amount of time spent commiserating on poor Miss Fairhill's state, he resumed his complimenting Kitty on her dress and complexion. This fell on deaf ears; Kitty could only contrast his amiable but vacant countenance with the ready intelligence behind Mr Campbell's eyes. Unaware of his fall from grace, Mr Clifford rambled happily; and for the first time ever, Kitty looked at a gallant gentleman and found him incredibly dim-witted.

* * *

"Do you enjoy theatre, Mr Bertram? Mr Maddox said so. We have common tastes, then," Miss Sanders stated.

Mr Bertram politely inquired after her tastes.

"Oh, tragedies, without doubt. Such exquisite language which explores the very soul of humanity; this is what I read," Miss Sanders asserted.

"Indeed, I do not care much for comedies," Miss Maddox said. "They are often crude and unsophisticated."

"I shall confess that I am a lover of comedies," Mr Bertram tossed lightly. He smiled benignly at the mortified Miss Maddox: "I have no claims to refinement and sophistication."

"Which comedies do you like, Sir?" Miss Sanders recovered.

"I have a partiality for Much Ado," he said.

Mary looked up at that, for this was her favourite play.

"Shakespeare," Miss Sanders commented, mollified. "Of course Shakespeare can do no wrong- you have chosen your comedy well, Sir."

"A comedy? With such dark, almost tragic parts?" Mr Maddox interjected. "I always found Claudio's treatment of poor Hero cruel and incomprehensible. To slight the lady, on the day of their marriage, charging her publicly with betrayal? "

"Well, he did believe her to be guilty," Miss Sanders replied. "His behaviour, though cruel, was not incomprehensible."

"Jealousy is a powerful motivation," Lord Glowner added.

Mary spoke up:

"The public humiliation Claudio inflects on his fiancée is despicable, regardless of his beliefs. He also displays a shocking lack of judgment! In his readiness to believe slanderous reports and to be persuaded of their veracity, there is a lesson for all of us, I think: that is, to stay clear of external influence when one forms a judgment; to collect information and reports from different sources…"

"I understand you, Miss Bennet," Lord Glowner interrupted, "but you must admit that it was not mere hearsay that Claudio believed. He witnessed his fiancée's infidelity- with his own eyes. It was staged, of course; but he could not discard this evidence, could he?"

"He was allowing himself to be led down this path, from the very beginning; allowing the deceivers to put a very convenient piece of "evidence" in front of his eyes. Not once did he use his capacity for reasoning," Mary protested.

"What do you think, my lord?" Miss Maddox intervened.

"People are all too much prone to believe malignant gossip", the Earl said soberly. "It is a very common foible of human nature to jump to the worst conclusions."

Susan could not resist:

"Is it a very common foible of yours too, my lord?"

"When I believe the worst of someone, Miss Price, I assure you that this is the result of my own observations; I never let the opinion of others influence my judgment!" he replied firmly.

"Indeed, Miss Price," Lord Glowner added with a touch of irritation, "the Earl is blessed with the utmost confidence in his judgment; such confidence, truly, that he would ignore any report, any glaringly obvious evidence which did not fit with his own opinion!"

"Well, what do you say, Harrison?" Mr Bertram cried out. "You and I are outnumbered; so many philosophical critics! I shall not care to give my opinion after them."

"You tease us, Mr Bertram; for you do have a ready opinion, don't you?" Mary asked.

"Some of you condemn Claudio, the others take his defence. All of you think as rational creatures, discussing at length evidence, reasoning and judgment," Mr Bertram said. "I take a simpler view-the view of a crude and unsophisticated mind, I am afraid. Claudio is a fool, who does not deserve his lady's love; for had he truly known and loved her, he would have thrown the blackguards out of the window and made no further enquiries."

"Hear, hear!" Mr Harrison exclaimed. "Faith and trust ought to prevail on any calumnies!"

"How admirable," Lord Glowner said in derision; "but a dangerous gamble, I should think, to rely on faith and trust only. You ignore the cool intellect in favour of the impulse of feelings."

"Are feeling and sympathy to be excluded from sound reasoning?" Mr Bertram questioned. "Are they not at the root of our actions and decisions? I should not find it wise to ignore them. Besides, the cool intellect itself may be tricked; imagination can make leaps and bounds as well as an untamed horse."

"What is your opinion, Miss Bennet?" Lord Glowner asked.

"I do understand Mr Bertram's point. Surely one must be able to reconcile intellect and feeling to achieve…" Mary said slowly, trying to pinpoint the right word. "Harmony," she uttered at last.

"A most diplomatic answer, Miss Bennet," Lord Glowner taunted.

Ever the peacemaker, Mr Harrison bristled:

"What is wrong with diplomacy?"

"Glowner, you wrong Miss Bennet's character," Mr Bertram cried out. He smiled suddenly at Mary: "I have yet to hear her profess opinions which are not her own."

Eyebrow raised, Lord Glowner considered Bertram's defence of Miss Bennet; Miss Sanders could not be satisfied with the turn of the conversation:

"Beatrice and Benedick, I believe, are seen as the highlights of the play. I do not understand their popularity; Beatrice always appeared to me as a very impertinent sort of woman and the attachment between them quite contrived. "

"They are matched in wits," Mr Harrison offered.

"There have been more unequal matches, to be sure," the Earl conceded.

Lord Glowner sneered:

"A solid foundation it is! Unending discord and contention! It is unlikely that two people who are never of the same mind could discover in themselves affection for the other!"

"I think their attachment stems first from gratitude. They are led to believe, through their friends' ill-advised attempts to bring them together," (at this Susan reddened, highly aware of the Earl's ironic gaze), "that they have inspired affection in the other. Then, their imagination takes flight: every word the other says becomes fraught with meanings, even a simple invitation to dinner!" Mary said.

"You do not believe that double meanings play a significant part in courtship and wooing, then?" Mr Harrison inquired.

"Not at all," she replied. "We should all strive for the utmost clarity of speech."

"How exacting! And, I believe, very dull, for there is no eloquence to be found in simplicity" Miss Sanders said disdainfully.

"I do not think so," Mary countered. "Plain, simple language which speaks to the heart as well as the mind is eloquent enough."

"Indeed; like Miss Bennet, I shall advocate simplicity. Furthermore," Lord Glowner added, his blue gaze trying to pierce Mary's very soul, "simplicity can never be plain." His voice dropped to a lower tone: "There is tremendous beauty to be found in it."

Mary, astounded, could not trust herself to speak. What was Lord Glowner getting at?

With a levity which sounded a bit forced to the most attentive listeners, Mr Bertram interfered:

"You are perjuring yourself, Glowner; why, those simple sentences of yours are ridden with double meanings!"

Valiantly, Mr Maddox changed the subject:

"Then, Miss Bennet, you do not believe that the seeds of affection were already planted in Beatrice and Benedick long before their friends' ruse?"

Mary, still confused by both gentlemen, was thankful for the interruption:

"I have always thought they were a warning: how easily swayed we are in spite of our better judgment; how prone we are to delude ourselves," Mary replied.

The Earl could not remain silent:

"Quite so; even the most sensible beings can prove fanciful creatures where matches are concerned."

Susan directed a glare at him before she could check herself. He caught it and offered his most insincere placating expression in exchange.

Miss Maddox could not bear this discussion any longer:

"Please, why are we looking so closely at the motives of fictional characters? What are they to us? Indeed; I fail to see how their predicaments are ours!"

Her plea was heard, and the group went back to tamer subjects.

* * *

"Beatrice and Benedick deserve more credit," Mr Bertram said as Mary took her departure. "Do you not think that they were aware of the other's worth all along?"

"They did not show any signs of regard for each other before their friends' plot," Mary replied. "Their sudden change of heart happened right after they heard of the other's supposed affection."

"Such a sudden change of heart," Mr Bertram countered. "Are they so fickle? Or had they yet to acknowledge what was in their hearts?"

"What part of this change of heart, as you put it, was their own?" Mary challenged. "What part was the result of their friends' false reports?"

"For others say thou dost deserve," Mr Bertram quoted. Mary recognized Beatrice's words- and the rest came to her suddenly, as she mouthed them along with him:

"And I believe it better than reportingly."

She was bested; he had won their argument. He did not smile triumphantly, only bowed as they parted; but she spent the rest of the day musing over their small debate.

* * *

Kitty stared at the content of the letter she had received. Concerned, Georgiana asked her if she was feeling well.

"Lydia," Kitty whispered at last. "She has given birth to a little boy."

Georgiana paled.

"I am sorry, I should not have mentioned..." Kitty began, upset at her lack of delicacy.

"Please, Kitty, do not apologize. It is your sister, and as for him...If I cannot hear his name now, when shall I be able to forget it all?" Georgiana said.

Kitty nodded.

"I did not even know that she was with child...Do you think the family knew?"

Georgiana was unable to lie.

"I overheard Elizabeth and my brother," she admitted. "It would seem that your sister has applied to Jane and Elizabeth for their...assistance," she concluded lamely.

This was very much like Lydia, Kitty thought. She would exert herself to write if she saw advantages to be gained from the penning of letters.

"This is it," Kitty stated in an unsteady voice. "I had not fully realized, until now, that she and I would never be the same as before."

"Kitty," Georgiana pressed her hand.

Her eyes were a little blurry, but Kitty shook her head.

"It is alright, Georgiana. I shall miss her, but I do not miss the girl I used to be in her company anymore."

* * *

"Lydia is so young. She is barely a child herself,"a distressed Mary said to Mrs Traumayn.

"What of her husband?"

Mary could barely keep the scorn out of her voice. Her husband, indeed! Hardly fit to be an officer, a gentleman, a husband...What father would he be?

"He is not a good man, I am afraid," she stated. "I pity my sister, but I pity the poor innocent creature even more. It is unfair that he sould pay for the sins of the parents."

"Your elder sisters will help them," Mrs Traumayn suggested.

"Money can only help so much"- _with Wickham's gambling debts, and Lydia's managing skills, how much will remain for the care of the child?- "_the education of my nephew may be neglected."

"You are very concerned about him. You must have been a very caring sister."

Mary felt a pang of remorse.

"No, I fear I have not been caring enough. I did not pay enough attention to my sisters' lives. I prided myself on my observations, but I was not able to discern Wickham's character when my mother invited him to dinner, nor could I detect Lydia's inclination for him."

"Do not be so harsh on yourself, Miss Bennet. Your family did not suspect this man's duplicity either."

Was her family a good example? Mary could not tell; but she had examined her own conduct. She had been remote from the proceedings, satisfied with empty moralizing; indeed, she had not used her judgment. This was a mistake she would not make again, she resolved. She would observe, and if the need arose, she would act, armed with sound reasoning.

The image of her father, used to retreating to his study whenever he was called upon to act, flashed in her mind. Mary still yearned for his approval, someday; for an appreciation of her comments, for a sign which would erase the slight of being included among "the three silliest girls in England"- but she was beginning to see his failings. Unlike him, she would not be guilty of indifference.

* * *

-_as usual, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'd love to have your thoughts on this! _

_-Next chapter: Kitty has a light bulb moment, changes are considered all around..._


	20. Of changes and friends

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan Price. Crossover with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

Heartfelt thanks to all the reviewers; I'll answer the reviews this week-end on the TODQ forum. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Someone had let it slip in front of Lady Prescott that Miss Bennet and Miss Price were learning a song. As her Ladyship was already planning a musical evening, she had requested the exclusivity of the performance from our heroines, who could only defer to her wishes. Thus Susan found herself rehearsing at Mrs Traumayn's, under her hostess' aegis and the guidance of Mary.

Mary was resolved that Susan's performance should be a success. After much deliberation, she had chosen a simple song which did not offer any thrills or technical brilliance. However, it was in Susan's range, and Mary was convinced that its very clarity of form would enhance the qualities of her friend's voice.

As Susan did not decipher music, Mary played the melody over and over so that Susan could learn it by ear. As they went on, Mary began to teach her how to read music, since she believed that one had to rely on solid grounds to feel secure in one's knowledge. Susan's grasp quickly got better, though of course it would warrant more practice before she could be deemed a musician; but over the course of the few days they spent rehearsing, and as Susan's voice rang pure and true, Mary was satisfied that her friend would be acclaimed and that her audience would overlook small deficiencies in favour of the emotion she would elicit.

"I must admit that you have done well with Miss Price's voice," Mrs Traumayn said one evening. "You polished what was too rough without attempting to destroy her unique freshness."

Mary smiled at the compliment.

"However, I confess to some curiosity as to the pieces _you_ are rehearsing for Lady Prescott's soirée. While I do find them lovely, I assumed that you would be playing one of those sonatas which require a tremendous display of velocity and power."

Mary dropped her gaze. The idea had occurred to her, but…

"Unless you are reluctant to outshine your friend?" Mrs Traumayn accurately guessed.

"I know how important this evening is for her," Mary admitted. "I remember how I used to be anxious yet eager for the time I could show everyone how hard I had worked on a sonata- and how disappointed I felt when no one paid any attention to my playing."

She smiled at Mrs Traumayn:

"There will be other evenings for me. As for Susan- it is her very first performance. She deserves to enjoy it."

* * *

Georgiana and Harding were sitting in companionable silence as she was sketching the landscape.

"Would you rather sketch landscapes or portraits?" Harding asked.

"I take pleasure in both, but I find people so much harder to capture," Georgiana let out a sigh. "I can never be satisfied with my endeavours in taking the likeness of my sister-in-law, or Kitty, no matter how many times I draw a new sketch."

"Are landscapes easier to draw? With the change of seasons and all the shades you can find in nature… "

"I find them soothing. For instance, I never grow tired of drawing Pemberley. In spite of all the changes you mention, it is such a comforting place to behold. It stood before I was even born, and it shall stand much longer after my death. It always inspires me."

She got a faraway- look in her eyes.

"It is solid and steadfast. Happens what may, it shall never betray me."

Harding looked at her intently. Georgiana's voice had struck a chord in him. How peculiar, even for a young lady of a retiring disposition, that she should talk about her home as a shelter! He had always surmised that Darcy had been a protective brother, and that Georgiana had been spared many hardships; but for the first time, he wondered whether her usual reserve was rooted in more than mere shyness. She was guarded around him, more so than around his siblings. He was almost envious, jealous of the easy smiles she bestowed on Walter, or the spontaneous laughter she let out as Eleanor recounted her tales of woes.

His hesitation in acknowledging the tiny lapse she had let escape gave Georgiana time to recollect herself and change the subject. Later, he chastised himself for not enquiring further on the matter; but experience had taught him a harsh lesson too, and he had to admit to himself that his own guard could rival Georgiana's.

* * *

Letters from Mrs Bennet were hardly of the kind which could soothe worries and bring relevant advice to the situation faced by her daughters. They were however full of half-reproofs, recriminations and semi-malevolent gossip. The letter Kitty received did not escape the rule. It began with enthusiastic paragraphs on _her Lydia, so young, married and a mother at seventeen only! And her first-born was a boy, too! _which made Kitty quite cross. She saw very little to rejoice in, and the fact that Mrs Bennet was not deterred from proclaiming Lydia to be her model child only deepened her discontentment.

This growing feeling of annoyance was not alleviated by the rest of the letter. Mrs Bennet was making rather persistent enquiries on the state of Kitty's affairs, wondering why she did not seem to be attracting any suitors. Perhaps, it was insinuated, Kitty's attributes paled next to Miss Darcy's thirty thousands pounds…

(At this point Kitty spared a thought to Lizzy, who would without doubt receive a strongly worded letter about the necessity of furthering the interests of her sister instead of promoting those of Miss Darcy, who was in no real need of settling down, unlike poor Kitty and her paltry one-thousand pounds dowry.)

The crux of Mrs Bennet's anguish was soon revealed. Maria Lucas, of Lucas Lodge, who had never left the neighbourhood save for one visit to Mrs Collins, Maria Lucas was engaged to a Mr. Harper with four thousands a year! Plain Maria Lucas, who did not have any of the opportunities which were thrown on Kitty's way! Mrs Bennet was despairing. The letter ended on the chilling prediction that Kitty would be the only remaining Bennet daughter left with Mrs Bennet (this wording phased Kitty for a while, until she came to the conclusion that in Mrs Bennet's mind, Mary did not count, since she had for long been deemed a hopeless case anyway), and that they would both outlive Mr Bennet only to be cast out of Longbourn by the malignant Collinses, under the triumphant gaze of Lady Lucas (who really did not need any of her other daughters settled since Mrs Collins could take care of them).

* * *

Mrs Bennet's letter had brought Kitty both a headache and some events to consider. Once the courtship of Mr Harding and Georgiana had run its natural course, it would be a matter of time until Kitty was sent back home. The thought did not hold any appeal to her. Yet she could not remain the guest of the Darcys for a whole year…

There was a simple solution, of course: to get married. This was Mrs Bennet's one and only advice to all her daughters. Naturally, Kitty began to entertain the image of Mr Clifford in her mind. Through Miss Fairhill's aunt, she knew that he was independent and quite well-off- surely enough to rival Maria Lucas' Mr Harper.

Oh dear, this last bit sounded awfully like her mother. She could do silly things- she had-, but she would not get married to spite the Lucases.

Mr Clifford was agreeable enough, she supposed- unless you were in Miss Fairhill's position, expecting some relief for your injury. This was an unusual occurrence, and it was unfair to hold it against Mr Clifford's other virtues, Kitty mentally amended. He would be kind and easy to live with, if she could bring herself to encourage him. He had certainly shown an interest in her. Would this interest be enough to bring him to scratch? She would see him tonight in company anyway; flirting with him could do no harm.

Unaccustomed to self-examination, Kitty did not pause to consider why the prospect of forming an attachment with Mr Clifford did not feel quite right.

* * *

Kitty struggled to keep a keen expression on her face as Mr Clifford prattled on. It had seemed a good idea at that time to go sit in a corner and converse with him, while the others were trapped by Mrs Fairhill's chronicles of her niece's sufferings. In spite of all the reassurance Dr Campbell was offering, Mrs Fairhill would not accept that the scare had been greater than the injury and her audience was not so heartless as to deprive her of the satisfaction to lament the fateful accident to her heart's content and to praise the patient resignation of her niece on her bed of pain (abstaining from commenting on the impatience which had prompted the accident in the first place).

Meanwhile, Kitty was similarly engulfed in a flow of words, a flurry of sentences which kept piling up without delivering any meaning. She had begun to listen to him, but his mind appeared to be running in pointless circles and so were his talks. Did he even expect a reply from her? A pretty, albeit vacant smile was enough to encourage him. He only required an audience to perform.

The compliments scattered here and there left Kitty cold. What would it be like, to live with Mr Clifford? To be subjected to this constant stream of sweet, silly nothings? She used to welcome them with ready blushes and giggles, but right now they were only giving her a headache. He did not notice her discomfort, caught up as he was in his own eloquence.

For the first time in years, Kitty suspected the main reason behind her father's strategic retreat in his library and her parents' estrangement. Her heart twisted unpleasantly and all mercenary thoughts were abandoned. Life might just be a quick succession of busy nothings, but nothing could ever induce Kitty to endure it by Mr Clifford's side.

"Clifford, Mrs Fairhill is asking after you."

Dr Campbell's voice broke through the noise and Kitty was thankfully deprived of Mr Clifford's company. Dr Campbell nodded, sat next to her and did not try to engage her in any conversation. A bit miffed, Kitty spoke after two minutes:

"You are making me nervous, Sir. Why, no words at all for me?"

"Pardon me; I assumed that you would enjoy some quiet. Besides, I believe that actions speak louder than words. Don't you agree, Miss Bennet?"

He turned to face her and she saw the twinkle in his eyes.

"Silence can be quite daunting. Without words, how was I to gather that you were not offended or disapproving?"

He looked surprised.

"Why would you assume that I was offended or disapproving?"

"People who don't talk so often are! They stand besides you, all brooding and silent, and they glare at you _so _if you do not say anything deep or philosophical!" Kitty shuddered reminiscently. Mr Darcy's glower when displeased could make one so very speechless; she had always admired Lizzy for holding her own against him.

"My apologies, Miss Bennet. What do you wish to talk about? I am no brilliant conversationalist like Mr Clifford, but I shall do my best to entertain you" Dr Campbell offered.

"I beg of you, do not emulate Mr Clifford!" Kitty let out unwittingly. "I mean…while Mr Clifford is entertaining, I understand that you do not share the same interests. Indeed, I own that my interests must appear quite commonplace, so…you are welcome to talk about anything you like."

She rushed her words, aware of an embarrassment which had sometimes reared its ugly head when she was speaking in front of clever and cultivated people. Lydia had never suffered this strange ailment, but Kitty, on occasions, would be self-conscious and aware of her limitations. Dr Campbell was on all accounts a smart gentleman; what if Kitty began to babble on, not unlike poor Mr Clifford? What if she appeared to him as dim-witted as Mr Clifford had appeared to her? The thought was intolerable.

"Why do you belittle your interests, Miss Bennet?"

Despite the absence of her elder sisters, Kitty was back to comparing herself to them.

"I…embroider. This is the peak of my accomplishments," she laughed nervously.

"A useful skill," Dr Campbell nodded gravely without a hint of mockery. "What do you enjoy talking about? For I believe that you are too kind to daunt others with stony silence," he added.

Kitty suppressed a giggle.

"I enjoy talking about people," she said.

"You are an observer of human nature, then," he replied.

"I…would not go so far." How could she correct his assessment without admitting to being a mere gossip? "I like to know about people. I would rather spend time learning to know them than engrossed in a book. You must find me very silly," she muttered.

This was it. Intriguing, smart Dr Campbell would find Kitty a very ordinary sort of girl.

"I do not find it silly at all. I like to know about people too. Indeed, I should be a poor physician if I did not take an interest in my fellow humans."

As a country doctor, he knew the whole neighbourhood, rich and poor alike. Through his experience, he gave Kitty a glimpse of the myriad of events, big or little, he was faced with everyday. Kitty found herself enraptured in the simple tales of those everyday lives he was brought into, sometimes for petty injuries, sometimes for serious illnesses, sometimes for life-altering changes. He answered her numerous questions with patience, pleased to watch her genuine interest.

No, this evening, Dr Campbell did not see a very ordinary sort of girl. He saw a lively face, a kind heart, common sense which appealed to his own; while some will argue that there are better beginnings under which one may form an attachment, we shall counter that there are certainly much worse.

* * *

The new sonata eluded Mary. Music sheets usually spoke to her; within minutes of deciphering them, she understood the intent of the composer. Loneliness, sorrow, or hope: once she had identified them, she knew how to play the piece _right._ However, this time, she had yet to uncover the secrets lying in wait in the notes.

"I haven't mastered it yet," she told Mrs Traumayn.

"Is there a technical difficulty?" Mrs Traumayn enquired.

How could she explain that she was able to play it according to the score, but that the essence of it would be absent? She ran her fingers over the pianoforte, mechanically recreating the leitmotiv of the piece. It ought to resonate more in her mind; it needed more feelings.

Why did it feel that she might drown if she attempted to lose herself in the music?

"It requires much more than I can give." Mary settled for this explanation. "The emotion behind it…I haven't encountered it in other pieces."

"We all have to face the unknown sometimes," Mrs Traumayn replied.

"I shall save it for another day," Mary compromised.

* * *

Dinner parties at Mansfield had become a regular occurrence. However, this time, Sir Bertram was back. Mary found herself studying him with interest. He had a commanding presence; he spoke slowly, with careful deliberation; and Mary looked in vain for something more than a passing resemblance to Mr Bertram. Indeed, Sir Bertram did not account for his elder son, who was currently introducing their guests to him with his usual prolixity, though Mary found it tempered with some restraint.

"This is Mrs Traumayn, Sir, with Miss Bennet."

Was it fondness that she detected in the way he spoke her name?

Their eyes met; he was smiling the smile she had grown accustomed to see, the smile she found so easy to return whenever it was directed at her. She did return it without second thoughts; it had become quite natural to do so over the course of the past weeks.

"You have a fervent admirer of your library in Miss Bennet, Sir." He went on. "When I first told her about my schemes for the room, she voiced her disagreement with great eloquence."

If Sir Bertram was intrigued by such a warm endorsement, he concealed it quite well; he replied that he was much obliged to Miss Bennet:

"For other friends of Tom did not show so much consideration for the preservation of my dear library," he added. The allusion to past events did subdue Mr Bertram a little, but Mary was too stunned to take notice.

"Friends," had said Sir Bertram, and Mr Bertram had not bothered to correct him.

"Friends": aside from Georgiana and Susan, no one had made any claim to this title.

Had she truly made friends with Mr Bertram? Moments flashed up in her mind, dozens of discreet threads woven in the fabric of her everyday life: good-natured teasing, an advice on holding the reins of her horse, the pressure of his hand on hers, parties of whist with a worthy opponent…

While she did not always understand him, she acknowledged that prior to the evening she had spent hours in anticipation of both Susan's and his company.

Friendship it was, then, despite their differences; friendship which made her look in concern as she noticed later on a stilted conversation led in hushed tones between him and his father.

"Miss Bennet."

Lord Glowner came by her side. His sharp eyes followed her gaze.

"Sir Bertram is quite the epitome of respectability, isn't he? What a shame that his return should not be appreciated by all."

"There is no reason to suspect that his family does not rejoice in his return," Mary replied.

Lord Glowner assessed her shrewdly:

"Dear Miss Bennet, I wonder at your judgment! Either you are bound by courtesy or you are blind to Mr Bertram's failings in his filial duties."

"I do not think it polite, my lord, to criticize Mr Bertram's character in such a way," Mary said sternly.

Sensing the sarcastic edge in his words, she went on: "If I may be so bold, I wonder at your indulging in such idle gossip."

He did not reply at once, and she hoped that she had effectively silenced him; but he resumed their talk:

"Your defense of Mr Bertram is very generous. He can be a very engaging gentleman, but I should caution you, Miss Bennet: old habits die hard."

"I do not understand your meaning," Mary's voice faltered.

Lord Glowner smirked. She had given him the opportunity to divulge the information he was eager to disclose:

"Mr Bertram has not been saddled with the sense of duty others possess. A few years ago, he lost important sums which almost encumbered his estate. I have been reliably informed that this was due to heavy gambling."

_A gambler! _Mary's mind went ablaze. In her mind, gambling was associated to dubious connections, shady dealings, ruin and dishonor- Wickham had been a gambler.

A small part of her tried to object to Lord Glowner's assertions: while she had observed that Mr Bertram did enjoy a little too much card-playing and could be full of barely contained energy, she had always believed him to be blessed with the decent amount of sense to pause and collect his wits before overindulging.

"In all fairness, he has not been in London for quite some time. I suppose that he has been convinced to stay away from its temptations. However, he has not taken on the responsibilities his father expected."

He answered to Mary's unformulated question:

"Now that his younger brother has left to take care of his parish, Sir Bertram can only rely on his elder to assist him. Yet I believe that Mr Bertram cares very little for his estate, as long as he can delegate the tedious tasks of managing to others."

Disdain was rolling off his tongue, and the assurance with which those aspersions were delivered troubled Mary, but she mustered a reply:

"This is your belief, my lord; but Miss Price tells me that Mr Bertram is very dedicated to the managing of his estate."

"Then, if Miss Price says so, I must be mistaken," Lord Glowner taunted.

"I hope that I do not allow friendship to blind me," Mary retorted. "I admit that my first impression of Mr Bertram was that he seemed to be a very careless gentleman, but on further acquaintance, I found him to be more responsible and caring that I had surmised."

"I did not know that you were of such a changeable, impressionable mind, Miss Bennet," Lord Glowner retaliated.

Mary looked at him defiantly:

"Without a mind amenable to change, I would not have erased my first impression of you, my lord."

His lordship was disconcerted; his blue eyes bore into hers. He ended up in answering with a changed voice: "Then I ought not to regret it, Miss Bennet."

Before Mary could realize his intent, he lifted her hand and kissed it.

She remained speechless, left to conflicted thoughts. For the first time, it occurred to her that Lord Glowner might have taken an interest in her- the gesture had been gallant. No, she amended; it had been designed to suggest an intimacy between them. She could not decide whether she was pleased or displeased with it; the whole conversation had unsettled her. Her mind was in turmoil: she had defended her friend, but some parts of Lord Glowner's discourse seemed to fit in with what she had first overheard about Mr Bertram's nature. She could not approve of the manner in which Lord Glowner had attacked his character- but had he not implied that he was acting thus out of concern for her, to caution her against… against what? Trusting Mr Bertram?

He had appealed to her judgment…yet their dispute had taken a very surprising turn. She still felt the contact of his lips on her hand; while the attention was flattering, it made her uncomfortable. Was it a mark of his regard?

His intent gaze, his lowered voice, were etched in Mary's memory; she spent the rest of their stay in misty confusion, nodding to what was said to her, checking Mrs Traumayn was comfortable and assuring Susan that she would be by her side for tomorrow's musical evening. However, once she was ensconced in the safety of the carriage, she fell prey to unrest and confusion.

* * *

"Are you well, child?" Mrs Traumayn asked as they were on the way to the Prescotts'.

Mary, who had been frowning, tried to collect herself; but Mrs Traumayn was not easily lied to. Mary chanced a look at her and could not help this outburst:

"Oh, Ma'am, don't you wish sometimes for solitude? How wonderful it must be to live amidst rocks and mountains, far from mystifying people?"

To her credit, Mrs Traumayn did not laugh. Such remarks reminded her of Miss Bennet's youth and she suspected that the "mystifying people" were actually two gentlemen Miss Bennet could not quite figure out.

"Well, wiser men than us have tried to live in the wilderness, in caverns or other uncomfortable places. Although it might be tempting, it would also prove quite unpractical, I suspect."

"You must admit, Ma'am, that most people can be sources of endless frustration! How exhausting it is to deal with them!" Mary exclaimed fervently.

Why, Mrs Traumayn had always known that Miss Bennet had a misanthropic streak.

"I agree," she said softly. "But most people can be sources of great satisfaction too, when one takes the pains to deal with them. I hope that Miss Price's success tonight will remind you of this, Miss Bennet."

* * *

Mrs Traumayn's advice buoyed Mary's spirits. She resolved to put Lord Glowner's baffling words and behaviour out of her mind. Deliberately, she avoided to meet his gaze, choosing instead to soothe Susan's fears.

"The whole neighbourhood is here, isn't it?" Susan whispered. She was a bit pale, and her fingers were clutching at Mary's wrist for comfort.

"I am going to have their eyes riveted on me. They will take in all my flaws and dissect it," she went on.

"Their ears are the only organs which matter," Mary replied, "and when they hear your voice, they won't find any flaws with your performance."

Susan gave a poor smile:

"I highly doubt it. Lady Prescott has invited the Earl, who is rumoured to be an excellent musician. _He_ will have no qualms in crushing our song."

"From what we know of the man, he will have no qualms in crushing _all_ songs, so pay him no mind, Susan! Just sing like you would for your friends, and everything shall run smoothly!"

Mr Bertram went to them:

"Are you ready to entertain us, Susan? We are all waiting with bated breath for your performance!"

"Cousin, you are making me far too anxious! Pray say no more!" Susan begged.

"How do you do, Mr Bertram?" Mary inquired.

"Forgive me, I have been remiss in my social duties. How do you do, Miss Bennet?" he replied.

"I was serious," Mary protested. "Are you well? You seemed…concerned, last evening."

"Did I?" Mr Bertram replied. "We did not talk much, though. I thought Glowner had your unmitigated attention."

There was a hint of harshness behind Mr Bertram's amiable tone. Mary felt flustered as she recollected Lord Glowner's warnings and the unexpected kiss; she wondered if Mr Bertram had seen them? He must have, she realized, or he would not have sounded so...censorious. How must it have appeared? She could not explain what had happened when she could not understand it herself. She was aware of a burning desire to clear Mr Bertram's misconceptions, but she was at a loss on how to do it without implying that Lord Glowner had been improper in his conduct, as this had not been the case.

"I am sorry," Mr Bertram said hastily. "I had no concerns- none at all."

Mary felt that she was prying, but part of her wanted to clear Mr Bertram's character from Lord Glowner's accusations. She ventured to ask:

"I trust that Sir Bertram was satisfied with the way you managed the estate during his absence? "

"If you are asking this question, Miss Bennet, then I must infer that you know this isn't so " Mr Bertram replied frankly. "Though who told you..." he trailed off, as his expression dawned with understanding.

"Lord Glowner takes an eager interest in my affairs, it appears," he said coldly.

"Lord Glowner did not...I could not help but notice your father and yourself..." Mary stammered.

"Do not look so distressed, Miss Bennet," Mr Bertram said with forced cheerfulness. "It is not a secret that Sir Bertram has good motives for not trusting me with the management of the estate. In time, I shall hire a good steward, rely on his competence and hope he shall not cheat me excessively."

He turned away to join the Yates; Mary could not speak. His self-derision hurt her; there had been shades of carelessness and indifference in him, which fitted Lord Glowner's description.

She was disappointed with this Mr Bertram; but she could not muse on his words, for this was time for Susan's performance.

* * *

Mary rose smiling from her seat at the pianoforte. Susan had sung charmingly, their audience was appreciative, and the joy on Susan's face ensured for Mary the success of the evening, as Mrs Traumayn had predicted.

They were halfway back to their seats when Miss Sanders stood up:

"Dear Miss Price, you must sing again for us! One song was not enough; don't you agree with me, Lady Prescott?"

Susan stammered that she had only learnt one song; but Lady Prescott joined in Miss Sanders' request.

"Since you can read music, I know the very song for you; and I shall play for you!" the obliging Miss Sanders offered.

Susan's panicked gaze met Mary's: both were aware that Susan could barely read music, and that her rendition could only be accurate after Mary had played the tune a few times. Yet, for Susan to acknowledge publicly her ignorance, would undo all Mary's endeavours to make her friend feel more at ease in society. Oh, how she loathed Miss Sanders' pettiness! She struggled to find a polite way of refusing their hostess' request for a new song, when Mr Bertram interfered:

"Come, Susan, don't be shy!" he said loudly, with what must have been, Mary assumed, a woefully misguided smile of encouragement.

Nobody could accuse _you_ of shyness, for sure! Mary thought with ferocity. She could only watch helplessly as Susan took her place by the pianoforte, guided by the triumphant Miss Sanders.

Susan had lost her confident demeanour. Frantically, her mind attempted to decipher the sheet music; she wished she could hum a few bars, trying to recreate the tune, but she could only listen to Miss Sanders playing a few accords before motioning for her to sing:

_Did you not hear my lady_

_Go down in the garden singing_

* * *

_-I do not usually end with cliffhangers, but I wanted to post this chapter this week-end. The remaining of the evening will be told in the next chapter. Also, I am afraid that in some parts, the phrasing is too modern, but I just could not manage to undo it. _

_-next chapter: impromptu performances, clashes and rumours!_


	21. Of rumours and friendly duties

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters. A few _Emma _references in this chapter (both the novel and the movie adaptation) + your usual ratio of Austen quotes per chapter ^^.

Thanks to all the kind people who took the time to leave feedback, you made my day! Replies can be found on the TODQ forum.

* * *

Susan's voice was weak, reflecting the young woman's uncertainty. The musician in Mary mentally cringed at the few false notes which crept in Susan's rendition; but the friend won over the critic. Surmising that a familiar, non-judging face would cheer the performer's spirits, she tried to project calm and confidence in her friend's abilities; when a slight crack slipped in Susan's voice, Mary kept her composure intact and was gratified to see her friend recover.

In spite of the appearances, Mary was fuming on her friend's behalf. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr Bertram looking puzzled at the discrepancy between his cousin's first previous performance and the one they were currently being subjected to. Maybe he was regretting his intervention; but Mary's sympathy went to Susan, who was valiantly fighting the urge to flee the scene.

* * *

After an excruciating first verse which seemed to go on forever, Susan made a desperate attempt to collect herself. She had a better inkling of what the tune ought to sound like- if only she could hear it sung _right_ just once…

How far away was the success of her first performance! But she would overcome the wave of distress which was threatening to engulf her; she must salvage the rest of the performance.

Three parts remained, she thought with trepidation; she must attack the second verse:

_Oh, saw you not my lady_

_Out in the garden there _

Susan was stunned into speechlessness; Miss Sanders was stunned into abruptly ceasing her playing; the rest of the company was stunned into wonderment.

Indifferent to awe and the sudden lack of accompaniment, the improvised singer rose from his seat to walk towards Susan. Mellifluous tenor wooed their audience, hitting all the right notes effortlessly while singing _a capella. _Susan's quick mind went still and uncomprehending as the Earl of Hampstead stood next to her.

_Shaming the rose and lily_

_For she is twice as fair_

She could not think, nor could she reason; her bewilderment did not dissipate, but it turned into delightful confusion. Despite her dislike for the Earl, she found his presence by her side comforting as she committed the song to memory.

Her heart swelled; the third verse began. The Earl looked sharply at her as her voice joined his:

_Though I am nothing to her_

_Though she must rarely look at me_

She was dimly aware that somewhere, Miss Sanders had gathered her wits and had resumed her playing; but all her surroundings disappeared as their voices merged with astounding ease. Susan's last misgivings vanished; once again, singing felt as natural as breathing. That it should have happened with the proud, disagreeable Earl of Hampstead, she did not pause to consider, lost in the delight of having her true voice back:

_And though I could never woo her_

_I'll love her till I die _

Here came the last part:

_Surely you heard my lady_

_Go down in the garden singing_

At this point the Earl shot her a warning glance; Susan understood its significance, as a look at the music sheet confirmed that there would be some variations on the previous verses. She sang in a milder fashion while he tackled on the technical changes.

_Silencing all the songbirds_

_And setting the earlies ringing_

Yet, to Susan's amazement, his voice did not overpower hers; indeed, he was harmonizing with her, she realized.

_The rumours were true_, she thought in a daze. _He really is an excellent musician. _

_But surely you are my lady_

_Out in the garden there_

He held on a hand to silence her; she complied. She did not begrudge him the right to sing the last notes alone when he had come to her rescue.

Reading the two last lines "Rivalling the glittering sunshine/ With the glory of golden hair", she wondered if this was one of the reason why the gleaming blonde Miss Sanders had chosen the song. From what she knew of the lady, she would not put it past her.

The Earl glanced at his sister as he sang:

_Rivalling the glittering sunshine_

He looked at Susan's brownish curls framing a face flushed with animation, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he went on to sing the last line:

_With the glory of fair brown hair._

* * *

Thus the performance was brought to an end. The Earl took Susan's end and they both bowed. There was a flurry of compliments; Susan vaguely heard the Earl tossing carelessly "You must bow too, Annabelle- your playing was charming. Now we must leave it to you to entertain us with your singing", knowing full well that Miss Sanders could not rival them; with authority, he led her back to her seat, braving Lady Prescott's attempts to engage them in another song with a curt "We do not want Miss Price to sing herself hoarse, don't we?"

Much later, back in her room at Mansfield, Susan could only wonder at such an extraordinary behaviour from the Earl. Was it possible that he had taken pity on her predicament? She found it hard to believe that _she_ would be worthy of such condescension. It was more likely that he had stepped in to spite his sister…

Surely she could not have misjudged him so badly? However, regardless of his motives, Susan could not go on harbouring so strong a dislike against him; she swore that from this day on, she would try to be more civil to the Earl.

* * *

The morning following the musical evening, Mary found herself in a room of Mansfield, waiting for Susan who was to go for a walk with her. While her friend was busy making sure that Lady Bertram would not be uncomfortable in any way during her short-lived absence, Mary could not help but overhear Sir Bertram's voice. She could not make out his words, but his tone of reproof conveyed through the door.

At last Mr Bertram emerged frowning from the room; upon seeing her, he schooled his features into a blank mask, but she was not deceived. They exchanged pleasantries; she mentioned that Susan and she were headed for a walk:

"How right you are!" he exclaimed. "Such a fine weather-it would be a pity to waste it by staying indoors, and even more, to conduct tedious business."

"It would depend on the nature of this business," Mary interjected.

"Writing painstaking business letters to punctilious solicitors, for instance- isn't it best saved for a rainy day?" Mr Bertram said with levity.

Mary did not find an answer to this reply; again, she felt that under the guise of flippancy, Mr Bertram's carelessness was exposed. The mixture of disappointment and anger she had experienced last evening surfaced again.

She could not quite account for it, since this was Mr Bertram's business and no one else's; but maybe this was another manifestation of this friendship she had just acknowledged? At the root of it was concern; concern for the friend whose company she had come to value. She did have doubts on his steadiness of purpose and character; but she had seen enough marks of his kindness and good-nature to believe in his potential for becoming a true gentleman.

Her silence prompted Mr Bertram to talk about last night's performances:

"You did train Susan very well for her song. What a pity that she had such a bad case of nerves for the next one. I was readying myself for some chilling remarks from Lady Prescott, who holds her performing guests to high standards – when Hampstead salvaged the whole thing single-handedly. Braver man than I! Of course, even if he had sung badly, no one would have dared to boo him off the stage. I have to say this for him, he saved Susan from embarrassment."

Mary was struck by Mr Bertram's insouciant comments. Did he truly think that his cousin had sung poorly because of some crippling stage fright?

"Did it occur to you that Susan would not have been in need of any rescue if you had not publicly urged her to sing?" she settled for asking.

Mr Bertram looked puzzled:

"Why, she could well have refused to sing if she had wished to! I thought that she did not want to put herself forward, and I was encouraging her to do so! Only when I saw how fretful she was did I understand her reluctance to sing in the first place!"

Mary could not believe her ears.

"She was not fretful before, wasn't she? Mr Bertram, you know that your cousin is brave and outspoken. How can you believe that her unease stemmed from shyness? Surely you must be aware that her former education has been sorely lacking in some areas- that she was never taught music. She was reluctant to sing a song she had not learnt, because she could not read the music sheet Miss Sanders so obligingly proffered!"

She watched as realization dawned on Mr Bertram.

"How was I to know…?" he protested.

"You took her in, Mr Bertram; you knew that she never had any tutors or governess to teach her. Neither had she access to a well-furnished library, or a pianoforte. This is nothing to be ashamed of; but to admit it publicly would be grounds enough for some people to look down on her. This is why she did not give a reason for her unwillingness to perform."

She glared at Mr Bertram:

"If you had supported her, instead of interfering in such a high-handed manner…"

"Susan was free to refuse!" he countered in earnest.

"How so?" she said with some exasperation. "How could she possibly deny your simple request, in front of all your neighbours, in her situation? When most people gossip about her circumstances; when they closely observe the way you are treating Miss Price so that they can know how far their courtesy towards her shall extend; when gratitude is so much instilled in her! No, Mr Bertram, she is not free to refuse, when you bid her to sing! She is not in your position, to do as she pleases!"

His face showed genuine remorse; by his expression, Mary could tell that her arguments were novel to him. In a lower voice, she said:

"Indeed, how were you to know? You are a man. You are the elder son of Sir Bertram. With all the privileges which come with your sex and your rank, how have you ever been coerced into doing something against your will?"

"You must think that I am very selfish," he said at length. "Yet I do care for my cousins' well-being."

"I do not doubt your generosity," Mary replied. "You are generous- in a grand, careless way."

His words from last night echoed in her mind: "_In time, I shall hire a good steward, rely on his competence and hope he shall not cheat me excessively."_

"You are quite prone to mockery too, whenever one attempts to engage you in serious talk; and I begin to suspect that even your jabs at yourself have some truth in them. You do care very little for your responsibilities, don't you?" she said sternly.

She willed for him to react and to prove her assumptions wrong.

"You are not the first person to paint such an unflattering picture of me, Miss Bennet," he replied with equanimity. "You are right. I am the elder son. I have enjoyed all the privileges this conferred me. But," and he looked at her right in the eye, "I did try to shoulder my responsibilities to my estate. My father, however, is loath to trust me- with good reasons, though, since I have been quite careless in the past. For everything I do he advises me to emulate Edmund's patience and attention to details."

His sudden bitterness startled Mary:

"My brother is closer to my father in habits, wisdom and temperament. If it was not for my birthright, Edmund would have fulfilled my duties to Sir Thomas' greatest satisfaction. I have no head for management, it appears; then I shall dutifully pay more capable men to manage my business. Why should I trouble myself with such cares, indeed?"

He smiled at Mary:

"I can see that you do not approve; but I have been universally described as a man of leisure, and I bow to the public's superior assessment of my character. I am a lost cause, Miss Bennet."

Mary stared at him. She had finally cracked the veneer of light-hearted pleasantries Mr Bertram used to deflect enquiries. While Mr Bertram had still been true to his teasing self during their exchange- it was in his nature-, he had been honest in his defense (if one might call it a defense, Mary countered). Her awareness reached a new high as she put on the finishing touches on a picture she had not realized she had been painting over the past months.

In all fairness, she could not call him careless: she had seen the flash of hurt he had not been able to conceal as he had mentioned his father's distrust and disappointment. There was hope for him, still; but there was a greater danger threatening to break out. She apprehended its nature with sudden clarity; she almost staggered under the crushing weight of this enlightenment.

Now would have been a good time to accept Mr Bertram's last statement; she had already overstepped her bounds. With some clever change of subject, both could have retreated into an (almost) peaceful state of polite acquaintanceship (there would be some time before Mr Bertram could call her his friend again, Mary surmised; his others friends probably did not answer his pleasantries by leveling charges of selfishness and irresponsibility against his character).

Alas, this was not to be. For all her flaws, Mary had always obeyed her conscience. She must warn Mr Bertram of the evils which would befall him if he persisted in his unconcern:

"I do not pretend to know on which grounds the public have judged your character, Mr Bertram. Such terms as "common knowledge" and "general opinion" have always filled me with mistrust; many people refer to them in order to delegate the exertion of their own judgment."

This prelude was a bit lengthy; she hastened to go straight to the point:

"I do not believe that you are completely careless."

At this Mr Bertram looked up in surprise. This must have been the first time anyone had nuanced their phrasing of his flaws. Fleetingly, Mary wondered about Sir Bertram's parenting. She pictured a young Mr Bertram brimming with unrestrained liveliness, under the care of a very tranquil mother and a repressive-looking father. Sir Bertram appeared to be the kind of well-intentioned albeit rigorous man, who would hand down definitive judgments.

"Indeed, it seems to me that you are trying very hard to be indifferent."

_I understand this perfectly. I used to do it too._

Mr Bertram recovered and said in his pleasing way:

"You give me too much credit, Miss Bennet; I am not trying so very hard."

He underestimated Mary's tenacity. She was on a mission; she _would_ make him understand.

"Your readiness to relinquish your responsibilities does not signify at all, then?" she challenged him.

Anger and injured pride shone in his eyes; but he controlled himself and said flatly:

"What does it signify? There is no harm done."

Troubled grey eyes rested on him:

"Of course there is. It is harmful to _you_, for one."

This argument left him speechless.

"You cannot wish for indifference," she whispered softly. "You do not know how far it can lead you."

She paused. Empty rhetoric would not sit well with Mr Bertram. He had disclosed important, private matters; this required equal frankness from her.

Mary took a deep breath:

"It seems such an easy path, doesn't it? My father does think so."

She had his attention; but she looked away as she went on:

"I know the effects of indifference; I can only speculate as to its causes. Maybe it stems from his dissatisfaction with the choices he made younger." (_marrying my mother, who was not his equal). _"Maybe his worries were not alleviated by my birth, which did not give him the heir he had hoped, for our estate is entailed."_(If I had been a boy…)_

She blinked to dispel treacherous tears and focused to keep her voice steady:

"As a result, he did not seek to improve Longbourne. He has his study, where he spends most of his time. He does not care for social events, nor does he care to know about his younger daughters very much. He is removed from all the proceedings. He appears content, I believe; but I do not think this is happiness."

She did not see Mr Bertram's features soften; she said with more strength:

"I was headed this way. In such a place there remains little but emptiness. Isn't it better to find one valued and useful?"

She turned to look fiercely at Mr Bertram:

"Your father may doubt you; mine is barely aware of my existence. Sir Bertram is asking you to prove yourself; in exchange, you are gifted a place which no one shall take away from you. You hold your destiny in your hands, as well as the destinies of all who depend on your estate; and you want to remain indifferent!"

There was a deep frown on Mr Bertram's brow. He was staring at Mary as if he, too, was putting on the finishing touches on her picture.

Mary misread his look. She remembered where she was and what she had said; she glanced down and spoke quietly:

"I have taken a great deal of liberties, Mr Bertram. It was not my intention to offend you; but I cannot regret my words. I have come to regard you as a friend; and as a friend, I find it my duty to tell you…"

She struggled to find the appropriate words.

"To tell me that it was badly done?" Mr Bertram supplied.

His tone like his usually open face was unreadable.

Mary held bravely her own.

"I have witnessed first-hand what indifference has done to my father. I do not wish it on you."

Something passed over his expression; he looked ready to say something, when Susan's footsteps made them turn away from each other.

* * *

Mary was preoccupied as she walked with Susan. Had she gone too far? The regrets started pouring in. She had been so caught up in the moment, so sure that the conclusions she had come to needed to be said, that she had forgotten that Mr Bertram did not wish to hear them.

For how could he forgive such a lecture! Would she never learn? Had she not been rebuffed, time after time, whenever she embarked on what Kitty and Lydia called "her sermons?"

He had called her his friend. Well, after such a display, this amiable thought would never come to be again. What had possessed her? Did she want to alienate the few friends she had?

But it had felt like the right thing to do, Mary argued back. Mr Bertram had been ready to give in to indifference; but he lacked the coldness which made such a choice bearable. She had been concerned for him- she still was. Had she cared less, she would have been able to ignore it more.

She nodded and interjected "very generous of him, indeed", as Susan was praising the Earl's magnificent timing last evening. After such a spectacular intervention, it was only natural that a young lady of sixteen, in spite of her initial prejudice against the gentleman, should be willing to discuss him at length; and Mary was only too happy to oblige her.

* * *

Kitty was enjoying herself excessively. Her eyes fell upon Mr Clifford, who was gesticulating wildly in front of a captivated Miss Halifax; but she felt nothing more than relief at the thought that he would not inflict his irksome company on her. She would not have traded her companion for Miss Halifax's.

True to his word, Dr Campbell had not been a scintillating dance partner; but his even temper, his source of exhaustive anecdotes kept Kitty thoroughly entertained. There was something else, too, which impressed her as Dr Campbell was once more acknowledged by another family attending the assembly. He was well-known and appreciated by all; in his quiet, unassuming manners, there was the confidence of a man who had found his place in this community.

It occurred suddenly to Kitty that their stay with the Hardings was coming to an end; and the thought of not seeing Dr Campbell anymore (of not seeing him ever again) made her quite distressed. In the carriage which drove them home, she was unusually silent; she did not notice that Georgiana was similarly distraught.

Georgiana's mind was still reeling from the conversation she had overheard. It consisted almost entirely of hints and vague allusions, but she understood all too clearly the gist of it; and once the seeds of suspicion had been sowed, she found herself powerless to dispel them.

* * *

Mrs Harding peered anxiously at her son:

"Are you certain of your decision, Hadrian?"

"It is not _my _heart I am unsure of, Mother," he replied.

Mrs Harding could not remain silent:

"I do find Miss Darcy a lovely young lady; but I am sorry to say that so far I have not seen in her any signs of partiality for you."

"She is very reserved, Mother; but I hope that she is not indifferent."

"Yet she has not given you any signs of her regard?" Mrs Harding insisted.

"No, she has not," her son admitted at length, though it cost him to do so. "But how is she supposed to? She does not know the arts and entrapments other coquettish ladies would have no qualms in setting up; and I love her all the more for her simplicity."

Mrs Harding shook her head:

"I do not talk of "traps"; believe me, Hadrian, when a young lady wants you to fix your interest with her, she will always find a way to let you know that she is not averse to you. You witnessed how Miss Catherine behaved with our physician at the assembly, didn't you?"

She stifled a sigh as she saw the impact of her words on him:

"Your father and I were blessed. Ours was a love match. I know you well, Hadrian, and I know that you cannot be happy in a union of convenience. I have no objections to Miss Darcy; but if she were to accept you, could you bear to be the one who loves more than he is loved, _again_?"

He flinched, but she would not be deterred.

"If you are sure that her affection matches yours, I shall have no more concerns; but you deserve to have your wife return your love."

* * *

Mrs Brereton was visiting. While Mrs Traumayn thought her a very foolish woman, she found her an unending source of information: _it does not hurt to know what is being said here and there; and she knows all the gossip of the county, child! _

Mary was doing her best to carry the burden of the conversation as Mrs Brereton shared some tedious insights on the difficulties of keeping a good cook, the health hazards –according to her apothecary- which came from partaking in a piece of cake, and so forth, until Mrs Brereton gave a self-satisfied smile which heralded juicy news.

"We might have news of the happiest sort sooner than we expect it," she said.

"Which sort?" Mary asked politely.

Mrs Brereton looked offended at the question.

"Why, a marriage, of course!" she retorted. "A most brilliant match, indeed," she resumed. "Fortune, rank, elegance on both sides. _He_ is a most handsome, agreeable gentleman; and _she _is a lady of quality. They are suited to each other perfectly."

_And on the basis of such flimsy details we proclaim two individuals' suitability!_

Mrs Traumayn's amused smile seemed to echo her thoughts:

"What paragons! Pray, Mrs Brereton, do we know of such people?"

"You are mocking me, Mrs Traumayn," Mrs Brereton cried out; "you have guessed it! Why, who can it be but Mr Bertram and Miss Sanders!"

Mary froze. Mrs Brereton whispered in a conspiratorial fashion:

"I have it on good authority that Sir Bertram thinks that it is time for his son to take a wife. Miss Sanders is very much in favour with the Yates, which is understandable. She is all elegance, isn't she?"

_And no substance._

"So great connections, too! What a handsome pair they should make, don't you think so?"

Mary was at a loss on how to match such panegyric; Mrs Traumayn raised an objection:

"I do not recall any instance of Mr Bertram acting besotted with Miss Sanders."

Mrs Brereton quelled the opposition:

"All gentlemen in the county are besotted with her! She is no simple country belle. Why, she has turned down very good offers from wealthy gentlemen! Mark my words, Mr Bertram has noticed her!"

* * *

"You cannot possibly believe her, Ma'am?" Mary asked as soon as Mrs Brereton was gone.

"It is likely that his family wishes for an alliance which is so advantageous under many aspects; but I do not know Mr Bertram's feelings on this matter," Mrs Traumayn answered evenly.

She eyed Mary shrewdly:

"_You_ are more intimate with Mr Bertram than I; I leave it to you to assess whether Mrs Brereton can be trusted."

Mary coloured as she recollected her latest interaction with Mr Bertram.

"Mr Bertram has not confided in me," she said eventually. "Such matters must remain private, I believe; and I wonder at Mrs Brereton, spreading such rumours with no concern for the parties involved."

Sensing Mary's trouble, Mrs Traumayn decided to postpone the mention of a certain Lord G. who was rumoured to have taken an interest in Miss Bennet.

* * *

This was idle, unfounded gossip. Such matters were private. There were Mr Bertram's business and nobody else's.

(Also, Miss Sanders' business, in all fairness).

She would not join in the speculations on a match which might not even exist!

She only hoped, for Susan's sake, that Mr Bertram had perceived the true nature of Miss Sanders and would not impose such a mistress at Mansfield.

(Also, while wiser men had been taken in with flatteries and good looks, she did hope, for Mr Bertram's sake, that this would not be the case. He had potential; but she doubted that his marriage to Miss Sanders would be the making of him).

It was out of friendly concern that she was so affected by the news; only out of friendly concern. Yet it did not completely explain the slight shudder that went through her as she thought:

_Miss Sanders and Mr Bertram? Every feeling revolts!_

* * *

From Georgiana Darcy to Mary Bennet:

Dear Mary,

Forgive me for such unorganized thoughts. I cannot think; I barely know what I am writing. I cannot confide in anyone but you- I rely on your generosity to attempt to make sense of my jumbled accounts.

Last night, at the assembly, I overheard ladies I did not know talking of Mr Harding. They were saying…that I was rumoured to have a considerable dowry; that it was clear from his attentions that he was angling for a rich heiress; that they did not wonder anymore at his abruptly removing himself from Miss Rickman's society.

I was shaken by their words; I did not believe that Mr Harding was in need of a fortune, and they were quite spiteful; but once the doubts have entered your mind, it is impossible to dismiss them. I had been wrong once; how could I trust Mr Harding's intentions?

This morning, I mentioned you in our talks. I said that I had a dear friend of mine staying in the county of Northampton; that she had met his close friend the Earl of Hampstead; and that a Mr Harrison had mentioned that he knew you both. (Forgive me for using you, dear Mary, but I had to find a way to bring up the subject).

Then, I said that I remembered Mr Harrison from London; we had met him in the company of Lord Glowner and Mr Rickman; was Mr Harding acquainted with both gentlemen too?

I was looking at him closely to see his reaction to Mr Rickman's name. Oh, Mary! He went pale; he could not speak for a few moments; then, at length, he spoke.

"We have been acquainted at some point, but I do not see much of them nowadays."

He dropped the matter then, and I followed suit, hiding my feelings as well as I could. Mary, I cannot forget his embarrassment. What was he concealing?

How I loathe secrecy! The man who betrayed me made me swear to hide our understanding from my brother; the whole business was clothed in secrecy. Honest and pure feelings can be said aloud without shame- what was it then that Mr Harding could not tell me?

* * *

Georgiana's decision to send this letter to Mary would have far-reaching consequences. Without the effect of this letter on Mary's newfound conception of friendly duty, it could have all turned out differently, I suppose; but it was as well that it didn't.

* * *

_-as usual, I'd love to have your thoughts on this :)_

_-next chapter (might be in two instalments): engagements might be in the cards (or not), Mr Bennet is surprised, and Mary and Susan investigate!_


	22. Of disclosures and proposals part one

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

I have updated the top of my profile with the link to the TODQ forum, where you will find replies to the reviews and an updated list of the story's OCs.

Thanks to all the reviewers; you really keep me going. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Georgiana's last days with the Hardings were tainted by her suspicions. The fragile trust she had begun to place in Mr Harding was crumbling; old walls were erected again between them and she could not tear them down.

Had it all been a lie? Her whole being rebelled against the thought; she recalled a small gesture, his eyes flickering with tenderness as they rested on her, and she could not, _would not_ believe in his duplicity.

(Her own conflicting emotions she refused to examine. If the mere possibility of his betrayal hurt her so much, what would it become if she acknowledged her regard for him?)

Such flares of hope were quickly outnumbered by doubts. It was painful to endure his company when she could never ask him the simple question upon which rested so much: "What was Miss Rickman to you?"

"I hope that you have enjoyed your stay with us, Miss Darcy."

She quietly answered that she had. Mr Harding appeared to be waging an internal debate; at last one side won out. Georgiana, who had chanced a glance at him, felt herself blushing as she correctly interpreted the resolution he has taken. She wanted to cry out "Do not speak up, I beg of you!", but she was tongue-tied.

"Miss Darcy," he began. "What I am about to confess shall not surprise you."

He gave a faint, self-deprecating smile:

"If my friends and family are to be trusted, I am not adept at concealing my feelings."

In spite of his gentle tone, apprehension was all she could feel; she knew what he would ask her next, and she had no answers.

"We are on an unequal footing here, Miss Darcy; you know that I admire you- that I have admired you from the very beginning of our acquaintance- that the days spent by your side only made me long for more time in your company…"

He spoke warmly, and colour suffused her cheeks; at this sight, Mr Harding, a little self-conscious, stopped his effusions.

"I know nothing of your heart. Tell me, is there any hope that you might, in due time, return my affection?" he asked softly. "I can be patient. If you need time- if, and only if you find yourself willing to learn more about me- then I shall talk to your brother and ask him the permission to court you. On the other hand, if you have made your decision – if you do not think that you might grow to love me, I shall never bring up this subject again."

Time. He was offering her time to explore her heart and her mind. He was not making her an offer of marriage to which she could have only replied a definite yes or a no. She could postpone her decision without pressure; all he was asking for in exchange was honesty.

Courtship would allow them to further their intimacy: she could hold out the reward of her hand while he would attempt to persuade her to return his love.

It was a tempting solution; but it would not be fair to him. Georgiana's chief objection to his suit did not lie in her heart; it lied in _his._ Was his love pure and sincere? When she looked at him, when she listened to him, his confession had all the appearances of truth; but she had been fooled before.

He was awaiting her answer; she must say something, anything. She could not look at him; his expression would have made her run the risk of forfeiting her heart.

Trust and prudence battled; insecurity won out.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

She could not say anything else; she heard his sharp intake of breath. Had she looked at him, she would have seen heavy disappointment and crushed hopes. He did not answer right away. When he spoke to her again, it was in his accustomed gentleness:

"Do not be upset on my account, Miss Darcy. You cannot force your heart, and I would not have you do so."

He offered his arm and she took it. She was shaking; she barely knew where to look as they walked back to his house, both struggling to show nothing of their distress.

* * *

Meanwhile, Kitty was saying her goodbyes to Miss Halifax, Mrs Fairhill and Dr Campbell who had come to visit.

"Well, I daresay you shall not think of us back in London, Miss Bennet!" Miss Halifax said.

"I shall miss the company very much," Kitty replied.

"You shall not lack company in London!" Mrs Fairhill countered.

"Indeed I shall not; but I shall miss excessively the dear friends I have left behind," Kitty cried out with feeling.

Although Miss Halifax and Mrs Fairhill were quite amiable, their visit had put Kitty out of sorts. Her time with Dr Campbell was precious, and they were taking it away. Besides, their volubility made it impossible for him to say anything.

More than once she had attempted to elicit a comment from him, but he had been rather taciturn; and Kitty was at a loss on how to convey her feelings. Geographic distance and circumstances would- in all likelihood- conspire to separate them forever; it was a testimony to Kitty's fresh sense of dignity that she kept her composure when she was feeling the most acute misery.

Would _he _miss her at all? Would he even remember her? He was his calm, quiet self; while Kitty had grown to appreciate- _to love_- these qualities, she was on the brink of resenting them now. Dr Campbell was an unfeeling monster, who did not deserve her agony over him!

"Indeed, I shall miss you all dearly," Kitty said in an altered voice.

She had not consciously tried to catch his eye; but she did. He displayed startled awareness; she went crimson. She was found out; how would he react?

The visit ended; Mrs Fairhill and Miss Halifax took their leave; so did Dr Campbell. She would never see him again; it had all come to an end. Wait; he was coming back; he was asking if Miss Bennet and Miss Harding would join him for a short walk?

Consents were given; never before had Kitty's feelings varied so much within so short a time. She had been all set to sink into despondency when he had left; now that he had returned with such a request, irrepressible hope sprang. The choice of young Miss Harding as a companion was self-explanatory; it made more proper their time alone and prevented either Mrs Harding or Mrs Annesley to act as a chaperone.

Kitty had no doubt that they would have a serious discussion; would he discourage her, or could it be that he, too, felt…?

They walked in silence, Eleanor besides them. In a convincing fashion, the young lady went into raptures at the sight of "so picturesque a tree" which appeared at some distance; she begged Dr Campbell and Miss Bennet not to quicken their pace; she would wait for them by this tree; in the end she lifted up her skits and hurried in this direction.

(Dearest, brightest Miss Harding! Kitty could not have dreamt of a better ally.)

"I am a simple man, Miss Bennet," Dr Campbell stated eventually. "It is entirely possible that I might have read more into your words than you wished me too- indeed, it might be presumptuous of me to infer that the regrets you expressed…"

He stopped mid-way; then he said very quietly:

"There is no way to say it without sounding like the most conceited man in England; but I must do it. To put it plainly, Miss Bennet, shall you miss _my_ company as much as I shall miss yours?"

The hint of hesitation in which this question was asked surprised Kitty so much (it was so unlike Dr Campbell's usual confidence) that she almost did not hear his admission that he would miss her too!

As soon as she grasped his meaning, she felt a surge of hope invade her.

"How much shall you miss me, Sir? If it is _very_, _very _much", Kitty said fervently, "we are equals."

Words and accents were telling enough, and Kitty's face was an open book; it was impossible for him to question her sincerity.

"It appears we are," he replied.

She could not be satisfied with so short an answer, but he went on:

"Before I go further, Miss Bennet, I must point out that our acquaintance has been quite short. However, I have admired you ever since I had to treat Miss Fairhill with your help. Such circumstances reveal characters. I cannot describe how much your liveliness and your kindness impressed me; our subsequent meetings only confirmed this impression."

Kitty would have been delighted to hear more; but Dr Campbell checked himself, cleared his throat, and said in a more dispassionate tone:

"Although I am convinced that our disposition and temperament would suit quite well, there are a several calculations that you must keep in mind, Miss Bennet. You are very young; you are charming and well-connected; there is no doubt that gentlemen of good standing will make you unexceptionable offers."

Kitty went to protest; but he insisted in earnest:

"I can afford to marry and to provide for a family. My wife shall live comfortably; but I cannot lie to you, Miss Bennet; I cannot offer you elegant carriages or fine dresses. You can pretend to a more brilliant match."

This cool, rational reasoning disquieted Kitty:

"You speak very sensibly. You must think that I am foolish enough for both of us," she said a bit peevishly. "I may have behaved foolishly in the past, but I am not a fool. I am certain of my feelings; but you say nothing of yours. Are you…are you trying to be kind?"

The fear of rejection seized her; she choked back tears:

"Is this an attempt to persuade me that I should report my affections elsewhere, because you cannot pay me back in kind and you do not want to injure my feelings?"

She turned away from him, desperate for a handkerchief.

"Miss Bennet…_Catherine_!"

He spoke her name in such accents that she could not accuse him of indifference any longer; he took her hands in his and gazed upon her with adoration:

"Pray do not cry, Catherine. I was a beast- forgive me, I am not used to proposing."

She smiled through her tears and hiccupped:

"I sh- should h- hope so!"

He smiled back, looking a little shaken:

"If I had no intention of proposing, I would not have broached the matter of your feelings. If I have delayed the expression of mine, it is because it would have been disloyal to do so. You are so young; I could not take advantage of your generous feelings. I had to draw your attention to the consequences of your choice. You have other options- better options as far as wealth and rank is concerned."

His eyes probed hers:

"If you accept me, you will bind your fate with mine for a lifetime."

Kitty listened intently. Her heart swelled with gratitude; her beloved was a man of honour, not the kind of man, she felt, who would use her love against her. _He _would never attempt to convince her to elope with him; nor would he trifle with her affection. She could confide in him; she basked in the sunlit comfort of finding her heart in agreement with her head.

She would ask later all the questions which occupied her mind about the manner in which he had discovered his feelings for her; for now, she was satisfied with the proofs of his regard.

She argued that she was sure of the constancy of her feelings; that she was used to a modest living; that while fine dresses and elegant carriages were not unpleasant, she would not marry _them_; and she confessed without blushing that while this was an unfashionable statement, she had no great taste for the life in town; she would rather not stand on ceremony with her neighbours; she enjoyed simple and open manners which were common in the country.

He was delighted with these reassurances; by the time they had reached Miss Harding's very ordinary tree, both had come to the most perfect understanding.

Their course of action was clear. Dr Campbell- Henry, as Kitty felt herself now allowed to call him in her mind- was determined to write as soon as possible to Mr Bennet to ask for his consent. In the meantime, Kitty was to remain discreet about their engagement; although she earnestly told Henry that her father could have no objections to their match, he was adamant that they should wait for Mr Bennet's blessing.

However, one glance confirmed Miss Harding's suspicions; and later, Kitty poured out the tale of her engagement in Georgiana's ears, who brokenly wished her all the happiness in the world.

* * *

"Are you riding with me this morning, Cousin?" Susan asked.

"I must write to my solicitor, Susan," was Mr Bertram's reply. "Do not wait for me; this will take me the better part of the morning."

Vaguely alarmed by Mr Bertram's gravity, Susan ventured to ask:

"Has something happened?"

"I was challenged," Mr Bertram answered enigmatically.

Susan's vivid imagination made her picture two hot-blooded gentlemen; an insult; the fateful choice "swords or pistols?"; her beloved Cousin sending his last wills to his solicitor before meeting an untimely end in a vicious duel. She gasped audibly:

"By an enemy?"

Unaware of her train of thoughts, Mr Bertram replied ingenuously:

"By a friend."

Susan's horror grew:

"Not a good one?"

Her mind skipped over Mr Maddox, dismissed Mr Harrison, considered Mr Oliver…

Mr Bertram said fondly:

"Indeed, a good friend. Better than I deserve."

Susan was baffled:

"Who challenged you?"

"Miss Bennet."

Susan understood at once that her imagination had overruled her reason. Now that her Cousin was no longer standing in imminent danger, she felt relieved; but before she could question him, Mr Bertram said light-heartedly:

"It has come to my attention that some people of poor understanding and deplorable manners have upset you, by deriding trivial facts such as your inability to torture a pianoforte or to speak foreign languages- when so many people cannot even speak plainly their own! Tell me, Susan, is it true? Did anybody belittle you in any way?"

She was moved by this sudden inquiry; he was looking at her searchingly.

"I see," he said as she remained silent. "I am sorry, Susan."

She was startled:

"Why? You were never mean to me!"

He looked grim:

"But I did not notice them. Next time, Susan- if these fools are reckless enough to snub you again-, come fetch me and _I _shall snub them!"

Ever practical, Susan objected:

"This is very kind of you, Cousin; but this will prove difficult. How can you snub Miss Maddox or Miss Prescott, for one? "

"Those two?" he said, indignant. "Well, I shan't… request their hands for a dance at the next balls! This will serve them right!"

With implacable logic, Susan retorted:

"But you never ask them to dance willingly, Cousin; you spend your time avoiding their presence and when you end up dancing the Boulanger with either of them, it is because their Mamas have cornered you and there is no polite escape to be made!"

With dignity, Mr Bertram replied that he had acted as a gentleman whenever the need arose; but in the light of Susan's disclosures, he would now have a good reason to refuse to humour these ladies without feeling remorseful.

"Thank you, Cousin, for being so concerned; but I can tolerate them. I have you and Miss Bennet; and the neighbourhood is peopled with amiable ladies and gentlemen."

"Well-spoken, Susan; and do not forget," Mr Bertram added in a good imitation of his father's solemn tone, "that you are the niece of Sir Bertram of Mansfield Park, and that you deserve to be treated accordingly."

His words warmed Susan's heart; she went to thank him, but he was not finished yet:

"My sisters were lavished with all the governesses and tutors England could provide." He frowned a little. "Come to think of it, your sister only benefitted from the presence of their governess…Well, you have access to our library, of course; but if you want to learn painting, music, whichever accomplishment catches your fancy, you shall have tutors, Susan. Do you understand me?"

"Cousin…"

He would not accept her thanks:

"You must forgive me for my ill-timed intervention at Lady Prescott's. If I had known the reason why you did not want to sing…"

"You are forgiven, Cousin," Susan said.

"However, while I am sorry for the position I put you in, I must thank you for a very enlightening performance."

At her look of surprise, he explained:

"Without you, Susan, we would not have discovered that the Earl could sing like a nightingale, bless his heart!"

He was gratified to watch her laugh. After some time, she recalled the question she had wanted to ask:

"Cousin…How has Miss Bennet challenged you?"

A rueful smile graced Mr Bertram's lips:

"You are phrasing it wrong, Susan. _How hasn't she_ _challenged me_ would be more to the point."

* * *

In his blithe way, Mr Bertram remained unflappable in the face of unexpected turns of events. His optimistic temper, coupled with his experience of the world, allowed him to gracefully recover from unpleasantness; he prided himself on his ability to take it all in his stride.

However, he had not accounted for the element of surprise. Apart from Sir Bertram's solemn remonstrations and his brother's unsolicited advice, no criticism ever came from his circle of friends and acquaintances.

Miss Bennet's reproofs had put him down. He could not dismiss them. He had tried to laugh them off, unsuccessfully; then he had tried to resent Miss Bennet. This was a vain attempt; Mr Bertram did not have a resentful disposition, and while Miss Bennet did stir conflicting emotions in his heart, he could never resent so worthy a lady. She had spoken her mind, eyes shining with conviction; even though he still bore the brunt of it, he admired her straightforwardness.

Her words had stung, but he had been powerless to offer a rebuttal. He had been thinking a great deal ever since. Indeed, Mary's speech could not have come at a better time; a year ago, Tom Bertram had suffered, and had learnt to think. He had intended to redeem; but no amount of goodwill, only spurred by repentance and contrition, could sustain very long. Working with his father had done little to brighten his spirits; Sir Bertram, too, was set in his ways and could not dispose of his reserve. The estrangement between them had not vanished; and one lecture too many from Sir Bertram about his son's duty to uphold tradition and values had left Tom under the ominous notion that his life would be a long list of dull obligations.

But Miss Bennet had been the first to assume that he would not be satisfied with reverting to his old ways; her fiery speech had awakened in him feelings he had long thought buried. When she had mentioned the entail of her estate, he had felt compassion for her (to be cast out of her own home after her father's death!) and mortification, for he had an estate to his name, and had done very little to deserve it.

_You hold your destiny in your hands, as well as the destinies of all who depend on your estate._

Her voice still rang in his head. He had responsibilities: towards his name, towards his tenants; but Miss Bennet had made it clear that he was also the master of his own fate. For the first time, he saw his duty without finding it dull. There were possibilities to make an impact on his future, if he only cared to persevere; Mansfield was his to safeguard and to improve. Therein laid the challenge which would make his life worthwhile- and he would prove himself worthy of the privileges the fates had bestowed him.

* * *

"Are you comfortable, Ma'am? Shall I fetch some refreshments?"

"Go, child; I am quite well, and I shall converse with my neighbours."

Mary had to accept Mrs Traumayn's dismissal. How she longed for a quiet corner and a book, like old times! Alas, she was now cursed with a better understanding of what was socially acceptable; she must join a group.

Susan was still by Lady Bertram's side; Mr Harrison, Mr Maddox and Mr Bertram were talking; while she enjoyed the gentlemen's company, she was unsure of Mr Bertram's reception. Maybe it was too soon to hope that they could be on friendly terms again; gentlemen of twenty-seven did not enjoy being scolded by young ladies a few years their junior.

The Yates, Miss Maddox, Miss Prescott and Miss Sanders she instinctively avoided; Lord Glowner stood alone. At the sight of him, Mary was reminded of their latest interaction.

How she missed the old days when the prospect of talking to either gentleman left her indifferent! Now both filled her with confusion. Who would prove the least of the two evils, indeed? She hesitated; but Lord Glowner had no such qualms. He went to speak to her; and Mary had to compose herself.

* * *

Mr Bertram had seen Miss Bennet; but uncharacteristic wariness had made him shy away from her. With any other ladies, he knew what was expected from him: a few compliments, a witty exchange of harmless pleasantries, the reassurance that he would give them his undivided attention for the time being; the conversation was well-regulated.

Miss Bennet had no taste for such idle gallantry. Besides, she was constant in her judgments; there was no reason to believe that her poor opinion of him had subsided since her speech; and Mr Bertram could not pretend that this did not affect him. He did not know how to face her; he could not bear her disappointment; he found himself unworthy of her concern; she had robbed him of words to express his inner turmoil, so he settled for silence.

* * *

"You seemed quite isolated back there, Miss Bennet," Lord Glowner observed.

"Did I?" Mary replied.

"I do not blame you; the company-" he looked scornfully around them "-is quite confined and unvaried. Everyone is eager to talk about silly nothings. I would rather remain alone with a book for all company!"

He peered inquisitively at her:

"No, Miss Bennet, you cannot tell me that you have found anyone here who could challenge you intellectually!"

"I confess that I rarely feel alone with a book; but you are too harsh on the present company," Mary said. "They may not enjoy philosophical discussions; but they have fine qualities of mind and heart. Sometimes, I have found my own prejudices challenged by them."

"You are too polite. The only way they could have challenged _you _is in bearing their company with all the grace you can muster; but I understand your reserve. We are alike, I believe. We do not suffer fools gladly; but I have an advantage over you. I can remove myself from their society as soon as I wish to; but -" he lowered his voice "you depend on the whim of Mrs Traumayn who had invited you there- and I gather that the society in Longbourn is not an improvement over the society here?"

There was sympathy in his tone; but Mary did not like the slight on her independence. What was he trying to prove?

"Mrs Traumayn has been nothing but kindness to me. I have no wish to remove myself from the society of very dear friends; and I suspect you do not wish it either, Sir, since you have been staying with us for longer than you had previously intended to, or so your friend Mr Harrison says."

"Indeed, I have," Lord Glowner answered slowly, "but you do not imply that it has been for the pleasure of _their_ company? Surely you must be aware that there is only one person whom I have found worthy of notice here."

Mary understood the implication, but she would not believe it. Instead, she replied with levity:

"Of course; you came with Mr Harrison. You have proved yourself a good friend, for enduring the society of so many people whom you dislike for his sake; but I believe we should not dismiss those who do not belong to our circle of friends."

Her refusal to acknowledge his compliment surprised Lord Glowner.

"How changed you are! What happened between our first meeting and the day I set eyes on you in this county?" he asked with curiosity.

"I do not understand you, my lord. Am I so altered?" Mary asked back.

"Altered! You are twisting my words, Miss Bennet. The change is a marked improvement," Lord Glowner said imprudently.

"According to your lordship, am I improved in essentials or in appearance?" Mary replied warily.

His lordship saw the trap:

"I believe that now your appearance matches your essentials, Miss Bennet."

"And you, my lord? How changed are you since our first meeting?" Mary said innocently.

"Very much; for an outspoken lady made me proceed more cautiously with the speed of my carriage," he retorted.

They walked in silence; then he asked:

"Which dear friends are you referring to, Miss Bennet? Are you the confidante of one of the Misses Maddox, or Prescott…?"

"Why, Miss Price, of course!" Mary answered warmly.

"This is very charitable of you, Miss Bennet," Lord Glowner said gravely; "but the incident at Lady Prescott tends to prove that you will waste your time on Miss Price. She is a deserving young lady, of this I have no doubt, since you took her under your protection; but she will not evolve. It is too late to undo the damage of her formative years; you cannot undertake her education anew."

"Too late?" Mary exclaimed. "At sixteen only! Why, Miss Price might not have known the early benefits of a thorough education, but I must draw your attention to two points, my lord. First, what is education? Are we considering ornamental accomplishments, good manners, morals? Miss Price might not be able to net a purse, but she knows how to manage a household better than I; she is brave, honest and kind-hearted; and most importantly, she is willing to learn and to improve. Then, I do not believe that education stops with the lessons governesses and tutors have taught their pupils. Life too educates us constantly, whether we are fifteen or fifty."

"You are very opinionated for one so young," Lord Glowner said.

"I am nearly twenty," Mary bristled at his condescension.

"Then, believe my longer experience, people do not change so much. The first twenty years or so are the most decisive in the forging of one's character," he stated.

"I would think it an excuse to remain set in one's ways," Mary countered. "If we did not believe in our potential to change, to learn and to better ourselves- then our lives would lack ambition."

"Fascinating!" Lord Glowner muttered. "Anyway, Miss Price is lucky to have such an ally in you to lend her consequence."

"Consequence? I hardly think so, my lord. I have little consequence to lend," Mary replied.

"Maybe the world thinks so, blind as it is bound to be where status is concerned; but one day, your merits might be valued. A change of fortune happens so fast!"

Mary blushed under his compliments; but she answered seriously:

"You are too kind. If I do have some merits, I hope that they might be valued by those who are dear to me; I do not rely on fickle, capricious fates to grant me some felicitous boon."

"You are too wise for your years, Miss Bennet; while it might not be in the power of the fates to grant you the happiness you deserve, it might be in someone else's hands."

Mary stared at him; but Mr Harrison and Mr Maddox joined them and she could not ask him to explain himself.

* * *

Mr Bertram was not at liberty to glare at Lord Glowner as much as it would have relieved him to do so, as Miss Sanders required his attention.

"What a success Miss Price was the other night! You must be quite proud of her, and rightfully so," she said.

Mr Bertram began to smile.

"You have made her quite presentable. Seeing her, no one could be able to tell her unfortunate circumstances. What a departure from her first months in your care!"

The smile froze; a small frown formed on his brow.

"I wonder at your reminiscence, Miss Sanders, as you weren't here when my cousin came to live with us," Mr Bertram said coolly.

"Oh, Miss Maddox took me in her confidence," Miss Sanders replied with assurance. "The change is entirely to your credit; who could guess that Miss Price's manners were rough, and her appearance wild, when you took her in?"

Mr Bertram's scowl did not bode well for Miss Maddox's dancing card in the future.

Miss Sanders was not aware that she had made a capital mistake in disparaging Susan. She was so used to flattery at the expenses of others that she assumed that Mr Bertram would preen at the mention of his generosity towards his poor relative. Under other circumstances, this might have worked; but Mr Bertram was newly aware of the snubs Susan was on the receiving end of. He saw this fake concern for what it really was; he was resolved to shield Susan from such criticisms.

"I am very proud of my cousin," was his curt answer.

"Indeed, she is charming. But my brother made a mistake in singling her out for a duet- I know Lawrence, he did this on a whim and thought nothing of it; but on so young and impressionable a lady, the effects must be disproportionate," Miss Sanders gave a convincing sigh. "I am afraid that it will turn her head and give her feelings of self-importance."

Mr Bertram restrained himself admirably:

"Rest assured, Ma'am; there is not an ounce of conceit in my cousin."

Miss Sanders smiled at him:

"You are more or less her guardian; how uneasy a task! This is why I am daring to give you some advice on how to handle her- you have been saddled with so great a responsibility!"

Her tone suggested that he had all her sympathy and that he could confide all his cares in her; but Mr Bertram was not responsive. He was reviewing his first impression of Miss Sanders.

So far, objectively, he had found her elegant and a rare beauty; a rare beauty who like all elegant women of his circle, could pester him with importunate requests for refreshments or to partner at whist at the most inopportune times.

By the end of their interview, Mr Bertram had amended his opinion: Miss Sanders was as rare a beauty as she was a nuisance.

* * *

"I have news for you, my dear. Quite extraordinary, I must say," Mr Bennet said to his wife, folding up the letter he had received.

He amused himself with the sight of Mrs Bennet whose mind was clearly swirling with possibilities; at last he answered her enquiries:

"It is about Kitty. A gentleman has offered for her."

Mrs Bennet went into raptures. There was nothing extraordinary in such an event! She knew that she could rely on Lizzy to introduce Kitty to the best suitors- how rich was the gentleman? How well-connected?

"He is a physician, whom Kitty has met, I believe, while staying with the friends of Miss Darcy in the country."

A country doctor? Mrs Bennet was incensed. Why was Mr Bennet teasing her so? This offer was nothing extraordinary!

"On the contrary, my dear," Mr Bennet replied. "This Doctor Campbell writes sensibly; we may infer from this that he is a sensible man. That a sensible man should offer for one of my silliest girls is so extraordinary that I must give my consent at once, for it is to be feared that Kitty should never repeat such a feat."

Mrs Bennet was distressed for some time; then she came to the conclusion that a married daughter was better than an unmarried one. By the time she went round to Lady Lucas, she had arranged for the match herself; while Mr Bennet was left to ponder over his former belief that men of sense did not want silly wives.

* * *

_-little change of plans (writing this chapter was a little daunting, quite a few things are happening): this chapter will be divided in two parts_

_-in the next part: Mary and Susan investigate, revelations are made, the Earl disapproves, and Mary is surprised…_


	23. Of disclosures and proposals part two

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters. + a few winks at _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Emma_.

Thank you so much for your support! As usual, replies are on the forum.

* * *

The penning of a strongly-worded letter on "the undeserving of the other sex" was Mary's first reaction to Georgiana's dismayed account. However, while it did alleviate some of the resentment Mary felt towards the scoundrel who had misused her friend, it was not very satisfying. It would do little to lift Georgiana's spirits, as righteous anger was not Miss Darcy's strong suit. How frustrating! What could she do beyond offering her support? She was all too aware of her limitations in the area of soothing hurt feelings. However, her cool intellect soon supplanted the unchecked indignation she had felt in reading Georgiana's sorrowful tale.

Upon re-reading the letter, several facts became clear to her: that Mr Harding was rumoured to have courted a Miss Rickman at some point, and that he had ceased to do so for unexplained reasons, which common opinion had labelled pecuniary motives; that Georgiana herself had doubted them- for Mr Harding did not want for fortune- but the gentleman's reaction to the mention of his erstwhile friend Mr Rickman seemed to confirm that the affair was worth concealing. Georgiana had jumped to the worst conclusions, and indeed there were grounds for suspicion. Mary could not fault Georgiana for her prudence; but there must be a way to ascertain Mr Harding's duplicity- or to absolve him from the whole.

Something ought to be done. Something _must _be done. Georgiana deserved the truth so that she could make an informed decision about Mr Harding; and since the gentleman would not disclose it, it would be up to Mary's probing mind to establish his character.

* * *

Mary's reasoning was quite straightforward. Mr Harding was no stranger to some of the gentlemen currently residing in the county. Indeed, he was a friend of both Mr Harrison and the Earl of Hampstead. Mr Harrison was amiable and while this could not be said of the Earl, both displayed the appearance of respectability well-enough to be trusted not to keep company with a man of dubious morals. Therefore, she would discreetly inquire after Mr Harding and carefully monitor the effect of her hinting at the Rickmans on those gentlemen.

She also enlisted Susan's help; the younger girl was more skilled at encouraging confidences, and was quite sympathetic to Miss Darcy's plight, abhorring secrecy as much as Mary and Georgiana did.

"We shall get the truth of it," she promised Mary. "If Mr Harding is slandered like poor Hero, we'll clear his name for Miss Darcy; and if he is a rake, she shall not regret him."

Susan was also bearing the news that Mr Bertram was cancelling their usual riding lessons, and had begged her to apologize on his behalf to Miss Bennet.

"He has been awfully busy this week- I have hardly seen him, though I do not know where he has been spending his days," Susan added.

Faced with Susan's bewilderment, Mary did not express her thoughts. Was he going to such lengths to avoid her? In the future, would he find other polite ways to shun her? Had she irremediably damaged their tentative friendship when she had lectured him? She had tried to do and say what was right, but she might have offended him. She was so used to sharing her insights aloud and to have an unresponsive audience that she had not realized that he might have taken them to heart, and in a bad part.

With what appalling frankness she had accused him of neglect and indifference! Yet this needed to be said, she argued. If she could only have worded it in a more tactful way- and what must have been _his_ thoughts, to be the object of such thorough inspection- could their friendship be salvaged? Mary could find no appeal in going back to the earlier stage of their acquaintance- the mere idea of Mr Bertram addressing her with stiff formality made her heart clench unpleasantly. She admitted to herself that she enjoyed his unguarded and good-humoured nature, so much unlike her own; and with an unknown sort of anguish, she wondered whether he would understand that such direct speech had stemmed from genuine concern, and could only hope that they would be able to revert back to their easy ways.

* * *

It proved easy to corner one unsuspecting Mr Harrison at the next gathering. Passing mentions of both Mr Harding and Mr Rickman managed to arouse his interest; being somewhat gossipy, he was quick to deplore the current state of affairs between the two former friends. Unfortunately, he knew as little as Susan and Mary did of the nature of the quarrel and could only deplore the unwillingness of Hampstead and Glowner to take an active part in reconciliation between the two feuding parties.

"For it must have all originated from one silly misunderstanding," Mr Harrison added confidently. "Rickman, Hampstead and Glowner can be obstinate and pride themselves on their uncompromising natures; but I must confess that I did not expect such excessive reaction from Harding. That _he _should have shown so little reluctance to drop off the connection! I blame Hampstead and Glowner for their resolute backing of one side over the other; there are no sides to be taken among friends! Now who knows when we might all come together again!"

"I doubt these ladies are interested in our squabbles, Harrison," the Earl interrupted as he appeared behind him. There was, Mary thought, a warning in his voice; and he directed a suspicious look at Susan and her. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny and sensing that they would not be able to enquire further, she made apologies and scurried away, Susan in tow.

* * *

Susan chanced a look back and saw the Earl conversing in hushed tones with Mr Harrison, the latter looking both a little defiant and somewhat chastised.

"The Earl knows something he is not willing to disclose, I am convinced of it," she said. "Poor Mr Harrison! I am afraid we have gotten him in trouble, though he knows so little."

"I am worried, Susan," Mary replied. "According to Mr Harrison, Mr Harding and Mr Rickman were good friends. However petty the motives for feuding might be, I am afraid that Mr Rickman's grievances are rooted deeper than Mr Harrison believes."

"What shall we do now?" Susan asked.

"If Mr Harrison does not know the truth, it would appear that the Earl and Lord Glowner have a better inkling of what happened between Mr Harding and Mr Rickman. We should quiz them cleverly" Mary stated.

They exchanged a pained glance. To quiz Mr Harrison was no great task; but to quiz Lord Glowner and the Earl of Hampstead required both ability and courage, for the two gentlemen were of a forbidding disposition. Susan was the first to break off the silence:

"And they have chosen opposite sides! What should we make of it, Mary?"

"This we shall decide once we have their reports," Mary replied.

* * *

The occasion to probe the matter further presented itself quickly as Lord Glowner came to them.

"Shall we take a turn around the room, Miss Bennet?" he offered.

Mary was still unnerved by his attentions, but she resolved to put aside these feelings for the sake of Georgiana- she would muse later on the meaning behind Lord Glowner's cryptic words and piercing eyes. She accepted his arm and walked by his side, trying to broach the subject of Mr Harding's relationship with the Rickmans without arousing his suspicions. If, as some clues suggested, there had been a scandal of some sorts involving Miss Rickman and Mr Harding (Mr Harding, according to what Georgiana had overheard, had been courting Miss Rickman- and which better way to account for Mr Rickman's strong resentment against an old friend than the protectiveness of a brother thinking that his sister had been wronged?), it was best not to mention Mr Harding straightaway, but the Rickmans whose side he had taken.

In a somewhat incoherent fashion, she began "We were told that you were acquainted with the Rickmans, whom I have heard of from other sources," but upon meeting his hard gaze, she faltered. His back stiffened, and in a deliberately cold voice, he asked:

"What is the meaning of this? Why are you asking after the Rickmans? What tales did Hampstead spin to you?"

The hostility she detected in his tone surprised her. She briefly entertained the idea of pretending that the Earl had, indeed, confided in her, so that she could get more information from Lord Glowner; but she loathed disguise of any sorts and settled for the truth.

"The Earl did not divulge anything, Sir."

Her earnestness seemed to placate him a little, but he was still suspicious of her intent:

"Yet your expression tends to indicate that you believe there is something worth divulging," he said shrewdly.

"I am aware that this seems very impertinent of me, and as a friend of the Rickmans, you are entitled to think so."

Mary's cheeks were burning; she was aware of the unseemliness of her inquisitiveness, but she thought of Georgiana and bravely went on.

"Pray believe me, Sir: I have no wish to pry into your friends' private affairs. It is the concern that I feel for a very dear friend of mine which eclipses all thoughts of impropriety. She has made the acquaintance of Mr Harding, and since then she has been led to believe that his past association with..." -she could not bring herself to say Miss Rickman's name- "other ladies had not been entirely honourable. Since I was given to understand that you were one of the few people who could cast some light on Mr Harding's past behaviour, I had hoped that you could tell me whether these rumours were founded or not."

Lord Glowner's posture had relaxed, and Mary could discern no trace of the annoyance he had displayed earlier. He looked deep in thoughts.

"I would never ask you the specifics, of course. I would not want you to betray your friends' confidence; all I need to know is whether you would vouch for Mr Harding's character", she hastened to add.

"I understand. You trust me with a heavy task: in a few words, to condemn or exonerate Mr Harding. Then I am afraid that I could not vouch for his character, knowing what I know of his dishonourable actions in regards to Miss Rickman."

Mary stifled a gasp at the confirmation of their worst suspicions.

"Is there no chance of a misunderstanding?" she asked.

Lord Glowner gave a grim smile:

"My being vague cannot satisfy you. I must tell you the whole story- trusting your discretion."

Mary nodded; and he began his account.

* * *

Mr Bertram was quite chagrined to see Lord Glowner engaged in a conversation with Miss Bennet which Miss Bennet appeared to find riveting. His dislike of the gentleman was increasing steadily the more he saw of him; and in all likelihood, it would not abate anytime soon.

In truth, he would have been fairly indifferent to Lord Glowner, if there had not been the matter of Miss Bennet. For some time now, Mr Bertram had found himself to be staring at Miss Bennet a lot; and lately, Lord Glowner had been standing by Miss Bennet's side for no particular reason. Therefore, Mr Bertram had been forced to take notice of Lord Glowner. What he had seen has displeased him: from the derisive glint of his eyes to the sardonic curl of his lip, all signs pointed to a man contemptuous of his surroundings and coldly superior. These defects did not extend to his exterior, which irritated Mr Bertram greatly. Had Lord Glowner been squinty-eyed and not half as handsome as he was, he would have borne him better.

As it was, Mr Bertram was of the definite opinion that there was only room for one proud, haughty gentleman in the county of Northampton; and since, for all his flaws, the Earl of Hampstead had the decency not to plague Miss Bennet with his company whenever Mr Bertram was attempting to do so himself, Mr Bertram would rather have _him_ remaining in their society, while Lord Glowner could not take his leave soon enough for his liking.

How irksome that lord Glowner should present the appearance of seriousness which Miss Bennet valued so much! That he should display no spectacular shortcomings- beyond his propensity to scorn everybody- which could be used against him. Mr Bertram was incensed; the grounds of his dislike for the man were sound, but Miss Bennet would surely rebuff him if he were to express them.

Even without the myriad of reasons he could offer, he was painfully aware that nothing could have cleared Lord Glowner of the crime of courting Miss Bennet. The power of this last argument struck him most forcibly; but it was to be feared that in the current state of affairs, its implication would not be well received by Miss Bennet, or worse, lost on her entirely.

* * *

"Rickman and Harding were close friends. Indeed, there was a time when their friendship was stronger than the bond between Hampstead and Harding. As for myself, I knew little of Harding. I was introduced to this close-knit circle by Rickman. Harrison was the ever accommodating gentleman he still is; but I found very little to recommend Harding to me. I cannot deny that his manners were easy, and that he entertained everyone in a sportive manner. It is a testimony to his ability to charm his acquaintances that Hampstead deigns to admit him into his confidence, an honour he does not bestow lightly."

"Yet you found something lacking," Mary urged him.

"Indeed; while I cannot say that I thought him truly malicious, I did not trust his nature, which I feared was flighty. The intimacy between the Rickmans and him was such that he made frequent sojourns at their house; and to the eyes of all observers, the marked attentions he was paying to Miss Rickman could only lead to a happy announcement."

"Were they engaged, then?" Mary asked.

"All but," he answered curtly.

"Was Mr Harding courting her openly?"

"At assemblies, he paid more attention to her than to any ladies in attendance; every word he whispered to her, every gesture seemed to indicate that their engagement was a foregone conclusion. Rickman was not discouraging their growing attachment. He had faith in his friend, and such a brilliant match would have been to the utmost advantage of his sister, whose dowry was a meagre two thousand pounds."

He paused, letting Mary consider his words.

"Several points, however, troubled Rickman. Harding had not approached him to make his intentions known. When he had ventured a few hints, Harding had been evasive and a little annoyed. Rickman did not wish to scare his friend away; he was persuaded that Harding's delay in proposing to Miss Rickman could be attributed to the influence of both his mother and Hampstead, who were hoping for a more prestigious match. Later, we would wonder at this supposition…but I am getting ahead of myself."

Lord Glowner frowned and looked at Mary:

"Miss Rickman, it appeared, had been kept in the same state of uncertainty as her brother. Perhaps Harding was regretting the hopes he had allowed; perhaps she, perceiving that he was cooling off, could only see one drastic way to secure him; those are the only conjectures I can make to explain her foolish elopement."

Mary opened wide eyes. Her first thought went to Lydia and she could not censor the low exclamation which passed her lips:

"Did he ask her to elope with him?"

Lord Glowner looked surprised:

"No, nothing of the sort. He was not imprudent enough to wish for such a scandal. She was the one who claimed that once removed from the influences which were opposed to the match, he would marry her at once; afterwards, their union could not be dissolved and her cares would be over."

He was slightly sarcastic; Mary looked at him curiously as he went on:

"In hindsight, Rickman would remember that his sister had looked slightly distressed the day before, asking whether he thought Harding would come and visit them as he had promised a fortnight ago. The following morning, she was not to be found; all she had left was a tearful note begging her brother to forgive her, and urging him not to be worried on her account, for she would come back married to a respectable gentleman. I could only imagine Rickman's reaction to such news- when he confided in me a few months later, he was still shaken to the core by the scandal which might have erupted then."

"I take it this was not the case," Mary said.

"Luckily it was not to be; for much later in the day, she was brought back to Rickman...by Harding himself! He was putting at a nearby inn, and I surmise he must have not expected Miss Rickman storming in with a bold offer to flee together to Gretna Green. It seemed that he had never intended to marry Miss Rickman after all, be it with the consent of their respective families or without it; for he was adamant that she should go home at once with the utmost discretion. He concocted the most fanciful story for Rickman, pretending that he had met his sister in town by chance as he was coming to visit; that a fainting fit had delayed their coming back to the Rickmans'; that he had made sure that she was tended to at the inn, with the help of the inn-keeper's wife, but had no thought of sending a note to warn the household of this turn of events; and that they had gone back as soon as she had felt better. Even without the incriminating letter written by Miss Rickman, his brother would not have put stock in Harding's lies. There was an unpleasant scene; Miss Rickman in hysterics, Harding claiming that he had not compromised her, and Rickman realizing that his friend would not offer for his sister."

Mary's mind was alert. She pressed Lord Glowner with questions:

"What did Miss Rickman say?"

"She could not speak coherently. She was ashamed of her conduct, and badly shocked by Harding's inconstancy. She fell quite ill, and when she recovered, she begged his brother not to mention her seducer ever again; Rickman did not have the heart to interrogate her further," he said soberly.

"But to think that the Earl, who appears to have such exacting morals, could remain friends with such a man!" Mary could not comprehend it.

"I cannot presume of Hampstead's convictions. Harding can be very convincing when it suits his plans; and perhaps he has persuaded him that he was not entirely to blame," Lord Glowner shrugged. His voice said dispassionately:

"Hampstead might genuinely believe that Harding's charm was increased by his position; that he was all set to inherit his father's fortune, and that Miss Rickman's eagerness to move up in the world might have made her willingly misconstrue Harding's mild flirtation."

"At worst, Mr Harding deliberately duped Miss Rickman; at best, he was imprudent and mindless of her position!" Mary countered. "They were on unequal footing; she stood to lose so much more than he! How easily her reputation could have been ruined, while his remained intact!"

Try as she might, Mary could not forget the whole business of Lydia and Wickham. How effortlessly such men could pass themselves off as gentlemen in polite society! Whom to trust, when good manners and the esteem of respectable men were not enough to guarantee an honourable character?

* * *

In this downcast mood she told Susan what she had just learnt.

"I wish, for Georgiana's sake, that there could be another explanation for Mr Harding's lies; but Lord Glowner's account was complete. It does account for the estrangement between Mr Harding and his former friend."

"One thing remains unaccounted for," Susan replied. "If Mr Harding has behaved so callously, then we ought to think ill of the Earl of Hampstead by association, for if Mr Harding is a deceiver, I cannot for the life of me imagine the Earl to be gullible!"

"Neither can I," Mary admitted. "But how could we get his report?"

Susan had a plan she would not share with Mary, who in all likelihood would have tried to deter her from acting on it. She was of the opinion that surprise was the essence of attack; and she thought the Earl likely to oppose a stony silence to any enquiries he might dislike. However, she had already managed to provoke him into speaking; she would prod and inquire and hopefully, she would manage to get some useful information out of him.

* * *

Mary returned to Mrs Traumayn's side, busying herself with her duties; the Earl seized the opportunity to confront Susan.

"You told Harrison that Harding and your friend Miss Bennet shared common acquaintances. I was unaware of this fact. I must add, Miss Price, that I do not understand the sudden flare in interest in my friend's affairs."

He was all suspicion; Susan braced herself and attacked:

"Miss Bennet and I have taken an interest in Mr Harding's character. We have heard quite conflicting reports on him. Most of them describe him as an honourable man," she said equivocally.

The Earl took the bait. His face flushed and he struggled to keep his composure:

"Most reports! Miss Price, am I to believe that there are dissenting voices that disparage the character of my closest friend?"

Others had cowered in fear under this glare; his tone dared her to disagree, but Susan would not be deterred:

"Mr Harding might have the honour of your friendship, but he appeared to have lost others' in the process; namely, Mr Rickman's, I believe."

She studied him carefully; he looked irate.

"Dare I ask on whose authority you... ," he began in an altered voice. He checked himself, and added coolly:

"Glowner, of course. This must be the authority you are so willing to trust."

He stared down at her:

"Miss Price, I am well aware that you enjoy running interference in the business of others, business in which you have no concerns; but that you should join the ranks of officious gossip-mongers affords me little pleasure. Such piece of meddling is the height of impertinence and impropriety; in the future, you would be well-advised to refrain from discussing the affairs of people you do not know with people you hardly know better!"

His scathing remarks stung; but she could not let him put an end to their exchange:

"Believe me, my lord, when I say that your opinion of me does not surprise me in the least. We had not even been properly introduced that you had pegged me to be an ignorant busybody," she said with no small amount of bitterness. "But Miss Bennet and I had a very powerful motive..."

He sneered.

"A dear friend of Miss Bennet was distraught..."

"I fail to comprehend how Harding factors in her distress," he replied.

"More than you think, for he was courting her when she was led to doubt the sincerity of his intentions!" Susan snapped back. "Didn't he abandon Miss Rickman...?"

She was silenced by the look on his face.

"Miss Darcy! Has she heard rumours?" he muttered to himself. He recollected and stated sternly:

"You should know better than to believe wagging tongues. Any doubts on my friend's character are absurd, Miss Price. I should hope that _my _esteem, not so easily granted, should credit him with enough merit to assuage you fears."

"You are unfair, my lord; you have said yourself that you never let the opinion of others influence your judgment, and that you relied on your own observations. Yet in a matter of such importance for the happiness of our friend, you keep silent on the most important facts- lending credence to the belief that these rumours are not unfounded. You would have us accept your word without exerting our own judgment when _you_ would not do so," Susan protested.

"It is a pity that my word does not satisfy you, Miss Price," he replied in clipped tones. "That you should not value discretion as much as you ought is deplorable indeed; your willingness to make private matters the subject of public knowledge is astounding. If you remain unaware of the lack of decency it betrays, I can only overlook it as being a Portsmouth trait."

Susan recoiled as though he had slapped her. There it was: the pride she loathed so much. She had been wrong to believe him capable of kindness and understanding. He was too aware of his worth, and too enamoured with his own judgment, to even condescend to consider her argument.

"Indeed, my lord, I was brought up in Portsmouth. I never attempted to conceal it, for there is no shame in telling the truth. _Your_ silence does not encourage discretion at all; for the affairs of your friend must be public knowledge already, if Miss Darcy has heard of them. Even the unexplainable dissolution of the friendship which united Mr Rickman and Mr Harding must have given rise to suspicion."

A thoughtful expression came over him, but she did not pause:

"I did not think ill of you, my lord. Your act of kindness at Lady Prescott's musical evening made me think that you were not as proud and stubborn as I had made you to be; but our conversation proves that your pride overcomes every other feeling. It would not surprise me if your obstinate silence stems from your reluctance to admit that you were ever wrong about Mr Harding."

He went to speak, no doubt to reply in his scathing way; but Susan, feeling the tears springing to her eyes, was resolved to weep in private.

"Now, I must beg you to excuse me, my lord. I may have been impertinent, but you have insulted me in every possible way. I am from Portsmouth, but I have never attempted to present me as someone I was not; unlike some gentlemen I shall not mention"- at this she looked at him directly, eyes glistening- "who do not act in a way befitting the title."

She made her escape, leaving him stunned. If Mr Harrison, who joined him, noticed the dawning remorse in his eyes, he wisely refrained from commenting on it.

* * *

Mary was practicing a sonata, but her mind was elsewhere. When they had left the gathering, Susan had been nowhere to be found. Mary wondered whether she had gathered more information, for she was reluctant to write to Georgiana yet. Must she be the bearer of such news? Her friend had already been warned against Mr Harding; would Mary's additional accounts only deepen her pain?

A servant announced Lord Glowner. Surprised, she rose to welcome him; Mrs Traumayn was resting upstairs, though, a fact which did not faze her visitor in the least:

"I would have paid her my respects, if she had been there; but I wanted to be alone with you."

He eyed her appraisingly.

"You must be aware, Miss Bennet, of the ardour of my feelings for you."

Since there had been no such awareness in Mary, the ensuing shock was great; so great that she could not move, nor could she speak- which did not signify at all, for had she been mistress of her voice, she still would have been at a loss on what to say. Lord Glowner, in his impatience, did not notice these signs, and went on speaking. He was enthralled; she had bewitched him. He had not believed that there would ever be a lady worthy of his regard; she had proved him wrong, and he was now ready to offer her his hand.

He looked at her expectantly. Mary had heard all this in a daze; this was not something she had ever pictured happening to her. Yet it was happening; a gentleman was expressing his admiration- he was making her an offer of marriage. This was more than she could have ever wished for; then why could she only feel panic, sheer and unadulterated panic?

She ought to feel relieved that an offer was coming at last; that the possibility to secure her future was in her reach; but she could not feel as she ought.

"I was not aware that my offer should warrant such careful reflection," Lord Glowner said with a touch of impatience.

A part of Mary revolted, cursing the manly belief that a woman was always ready for anybody who asked her.

No! She must recover. She could not interrogate her feelings, but her rational mind would not fail her.

"I must thank you for your offer, Lord Glowner. You have taken me by surprise, I confess. I am afraid that I have no ready answer to give to you."

"No ready answer?" Disbelief was etched on his face.

"How could I, Sir?" Mary countered. "I am thankful- yet I do not understand it."

"You fascinate me," he said, fixing his burning gaze on her. "You are a riddle to be solved- no woman ever was."

Many ladies would have been moved by the compliment and the tone in which it was delivered; but Mary was most definitely unlike them.

"Sir, we are both barely better than strangers to each other. I should not care much for a riddle. Should I ever walk into matrimony, it would be with open eyes. There is not between us the mutual understanding upon which a marriage should be based," she said resolutely.

That Miss Bennet should remain untroubled by his attentions, so scarcely granted; that she should refuse him, when he had expected gratitude and immediate acquiescence, was unthinkable to Lord Glowner. His features contorted angrily; and so eager was he to gain her, that he began to promote the most advantageous aspects of the match.

By doing so, he relentlessly listed her deeper insecurities; it was as though he had peeked into her mind and seen her concerns for the future, which urged her to relinquish her scruples and view his offer in a prudential light.

Miss Bennet was a charming title for now; but what would it be in a few years? It would be "poor Miss Bennet," said in a pitying tone. Did not she realize the magnitude of his proposal? Of his position in the world? Lady Glowner would be listened to reverently while Miss Bennet would fade into obscurity, a nobody. With him, he insisted, she would be somebody.

Any lingering doubts vanished. The more she listened to him, the more convinced she became that she had made the right decision in refusing him. Her head was clear and so was her voice as she spoke up:

"I cannot deny the truth of your reasoning, my lord. I never claimed that your offer was anything but generous; indeed, you have painted your liberality in such terms that my own expressions of gratitude pale next to your self-congratulation. I must now decline your offer, and I thank you again for the honour you have made me."

"Think carefully, Miss Bennet," Lord Glower said spitefully. "I shall not beg; after I leave this room, I shall not renew my address."

Mary did not waver:

"This is very well, for I shall not change my mind. If I had accepted you, it would not have been for the right motives. Marrying you might have turned me into somebody, but I would have betrayed myself in the process. You may think that I shall remain a nobody; but this fake version of me known as Lady Glowner would have been nothing."

He stormed off the room. Her strength slowly leaving her, Mary drew a shaky breath and sat at the pianoforte, body unmoving and mind in turmoil.

* * *

_-Next chapter: a letter and Mr Maddox impart some precious pieces of information, and Mary, upon further reflection on Lord Glowner's proposal, comes to a startling revelation…_

_-As usual, feedback is very welcome!_


	24. Of expectations and rejections

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

_I am so, so sorry about the delay. Real life happened, and it was not conducive to inspiration._

_Also, this chapter gave me so much trouble that I had to cut it shorter than intended, so no letter and no information from Mr Maddox there, sorry, that'll be for another time._

_I hope you'll like it anyway-thanks so much for your continued support!_

_I'll try to post the replies to last chapter's reviews on the forum by this week-end._

* * *

No young lady who has been the recipient of an offer of marriage- even though said lady has rejected it most determinedly- could be expected to sleep soundly the night following such an event. Mary was no exception to the rule.

That Lord Glowner should have proposed to her! She had never entertained any dreams of securing such a prestigious establishment, and yet he had offered it in such a way that guaranteed comfort, fortune, rank, more than she could have ever hoped for! He had offered it to her, who was no outstanding beauty, no great heiress; whose position was precarious and dependent on the generosity of others. She had been lucky in finding a kind employer in Mrs Traumayn, who treated her as a friend rather than a servant; but were Mrs Traumayn to require her services no longer, she would have to seek out another position to earn a living.

Why, then, did Lord Glowner's extraordinary proposal afford her no pleasure? Not so long ago, the Mary Bennet who was desperate for a scrap of attention, the Mary who would have accepted Mr Collins with no distress, would have assessed all the advantages of becoming Lady Glowner and acted accordingly. Had Mr Collins offered for her at that time, she would have judged him an acceptable companion. Her expectations had been reasonable: she would have been a dutiful wife, encouraging Mr Collins to read and improve his mind; she would have asked for nothing more than a nice library at her disposal; they would have lived on good terms, sharing a roof as well-behaved strangers.

The idea of a house of her own, no matter how small, appealed to her immensely. She had grown used to the knowledge that the entail loomed over her family's head; aware that her home was not entirely hers, would never be truly hers; that Longbourn was on lease for the duration of her father's life. Thus, Longbourn had never felt quite like home; she was prepared for this loss when Mr Collins had made himself known, not hiding his intent to take a wife among his cousins. As her birth right encouraged her to do, she had begun to hope; wondering what it would be like, to be the mistress of this small parsonage and to have a home to call her own. Her mother's plans to get a daughter safely settled and ultimately regaining possession of Longbourn by way of marrying Mr Collins had hardly featured in Mary's daydreams; she had not planned so far ahead. There had only been a thrilling notion; "home", which would be hers and hers alone, and would remain so.

Why, then, had she deemed Lord Glowner's offer less acceptable than one made by Mr. Collins? Mary could not answer her own question. This was the downside of the exacting academic mind; she could not delude herself. _She_ had changed. She would not accept Mr. Collins now as well. She had begun to yearn for more, long before Lord Glowner had injured his cause by pointing out the inequality of their circumstances. How crudely he had talked! How coldly he had presented marriage as a bargain rather than a meeting of minds! She had found him repulsive then.

She did not understand why he had proposed to her. She had believed that their initial animosity had settled into polite indifference; but his words had given her a new inkling of the real nature of his regard for her. When she recalled them, she could find no tenderness, no warmth of feeling; her indifference towards him was the root of his "fascination". He had admitted that he saw her as a "riddle", which, in Mary's opinion, meant that he did not see her at all.

At these thoughts, she felt a sharp ache in her chest. To have someone look at her, and see her for who she was; to have that someone see her bad parts and her good ones, her doubts and her convictions; to have him see her struggles and her imperfections without turning his gaze away; to have him simply see her and accept her anyway…

Mary paled. This was a new expectation, all too unrealistic and cruel, for it would never come to fruition.

Now she could label it; a sublime gift to the lucky ones; disappointed hopes for those who could never inspire it.

This must be love.

* * *

Dawn found Mary little rested and thoughtful. She dared not confide in anyone, the events of last night still too unreal for her to acknowledge. She got dressed, took her breakfast and attended to Mrs Traumayn in a daze. She did her utmost to forget the ill-inspired proposal and her own reflections, so that she would present a composed countenance at the dinner which was to take place at Mansfield in the evening. She dreaded meeting Lord Glowner; but she dreaded meeting Mr Bertram even more. Would he still be cross with her? Would Susan notice the discontentment between her cousin and best friend?

She worked so hard at keeping herself in good spirits all day that she went to Mansfield feverish and uneasy.

* * *

The usual company was present, barring two gentlemen.

"Mrs Traumayn and Miss Bennet, see how my friends treat me! Both have deserted me, pretexting urgent business in town!" Mr Harrison good-naturedly exclaimed. "Hampstead said goodbye to me several hours ago before riding away, and Glowner was already gone in the morning when I got up, leaving only a short note to thank my uncle for his hospitality! The Colonel is very much vexed."

Mrs Traumayn answered in kind, but Mary was the only one who guessed why Lord Glowner had left so abruptly. She flushed, hoping the speculations on the causes of his departure would die down; unaware that Mr Bertram was witnessing her agitation.

"My brother is such a capricious man," Miss Sanders told him. "He went off without so much as a by-your-leave!"

"It is often the case with young men of independent means," Lady Prescott asserted. "I wish he would have stayed a week longer. Our musical evenings are bereft of fine tenors; and he would have been a welcome addition to our circle."

Mr Bertram could easily deplore the loss of such musical talent. However, he could not join the others in regretting Lord Glowner. To put it plainly, he thought that the loss of Lord Glowner's society was no great loss; and he would have rejoiced in it if Miss Bennet had not looked so troubled with the news.

Meanwhile, Mary was feeling miserable. Mr Bertram had greeted her briefly, with so much uncharacteristic reserve! Then Mr Harrison, the Colonel and Mr Maddox had claimed hers and Mrs Traumayn's attention, while Miss Sanders and the Yates had asked for his.

She missed his smiles, even his teasing which used to irritate her so; she missed their easy rapport. Unbidden, her thoughts turned to Lord Glowner and another missing piece of the puzzle fell into place.

Lord Glowner was the picture of a gentleman and she could find no obvious flaws in his character; but she had a nagging suspicion that these flaws remained unseen, not because they were inexistent, but because Lord Glowner was cautious and self-controlled enough to conceal them from the public. Indeed, she felt that she barely knew him at all. While she could think of no great flaws in relation to him, she could not evoke any acts of kindness either. Lord Glowner was as much of an enigma to her as she was a riddle to him.

She did not trust him, for she did not know him. The irony of the fact was not lost on her; that she trusted more the man she had most thoroughly berated for his shortcomings, than the irreproachable Lord Glowner.

Indeed, she realized, she trusted Mr Bertram. She trusted his heart, his sense of right and wrong. He could be imprudent, but he was generous to a fault, when cold selfishness would be so natural a disposition in many heirs. He could not, would not disguise his intentions; he spoke what he thought. There was no mystery in him; but there was a potent appeal in this straight-forwardness…

* * *

Dinner was served. To Mary's chagrin, she was not seated next to Susan, who in turn looked subdued. Conversations were flowing languidly, when Sir Bertram, with deep satisfaction, announced:

"My son has been quite busy for the past week. He has talked to the steward, and the bailiff; between the walks into our plantations and the visits to our tenants, he has yet to spend a single day idle. I am pleased with you, Tom, for instating yourself into the concerns of our Mansfield life; I daresay that some good influence has been at work on you."

His son coloured quite violently, and gazed at his spoon with fierce determination; Sir Bertram smiled benevolently at Miss Sanders, whom he thought responsible for this display of goodwill. Miss Sanders was taken aback, and quite displeased with this information. It would not do for Mr Bertram to develop an attachment to the countryside; London was the only place worth living in. She had no interest in living at Mansfield Park; Mrs Bertram must flaunt her fine clothes and jewellery in front of a truly appreciative company. The county of Northampton was no acceptable substitute to the elegant society of London.

However, she wanted the good opinion of Sir Bertram. Later, she would sway Mr Bertram in favour of London, but for now she could say:

"What a remarkable work you have done, Mr Bertram!"

He gave a quick, rueful smile:

"Remarkable! Indeed it is; so rare an event must warrant commentary. Please do not compliment me; I am undeserving of it. I can only hope, Sir," he looked at his father, "that the occurrence shall become thoroughly unremarkable, for I intend to repeat it as often as possible."

These words gratified Sir Bertram immensely. Lady Prescott seized her chance to satisfy her thirst for gossip:

"What a pleasure it is to see young gentlemen take on their responsibilities! In that vein, shall we expect a happy announcement to follow soon? It must be Sir Bertram's dearest wish, to see you properly married at Mansfield."

"You are too optimistic, Ma'am," he said. "No woman of sense would have me."

He glanced at Mary, who was staring at him.

"Which woman could be insensible if you courted her?" Miss Sanders said, thinking his reply a sly way to require encouragements.

Duly alarmed, Mr Bertram turned to Mr Maddox to enquire after the health of some far-away parent who was living in Bath; and the subject of Mr Bertram's renewed interest in Mansfield Park was dropped. Sir Bertram went on to converse with Miss Sanders, giving his opinions on the stewardship of Mansfield Park. As Miss Sanders spoke very little and acquiesced to everything he said, he was inclined to think her a lady of superior understanding.

Mary was stunned. He had listened to her after all! After such a humiliating lecture for him, he had swallowed his pride; he had not dismissed her advice; he had risen to the challenge with all his energy.

And how modest he had been, while she suspected that, like her, he wanted his father's approval! It was only the beginning of his task, of this he was aware; and he intended to persevere.

Warmth filled her heart; she was proud of him, proud that he had proved her right in her belief that he could change; honoured that he had listened to her; hopeful that their friendship would withstand this test.

For Mr Bertram was a friend, maddening at times, but a friend nonetheless. She saw him now completely, with his potential for goodness and his flaws which made him all the more dear to her.

Oh.

It was a good thing that she was partnered with the unsuspecting Mr Maddox for the game of whist which followed the dinner, for the nearness of Mr Bertram would have undone her completely. Her mind was hardly at the game; and her heart, which she was not in the habit of consulting, was taking its revenge by manifesting itself at the worst possible moment. An innocent bystander, poor Mr Maddox lost several shillings in the bargain.

Less than twenty-four hours after Lord Glowner's ill-fated proposal, Mary was struck with the realization that, had Mr Bertram made such an attempt (and worded it more flatteringly), she might have taken some time to consider it. She would not have rejected him right away, so fiercely.

Indeed, she might not have rejected him at all.

* * *

_-I can't believe I had such a block over this small chapter, but writing Mary's emotions and gradual realizations unnerved me...I hope I didn't make a mess of it._

_-Sorry you had to wait so long for this; I hope you won't be entirely disappointed._

_Next chapter: a letter and Mr Maddox impart some information (hope I'll get it right this time), Mary deals with newfound feelings... _


	25. Of teachings and confusion

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan Price. Crossover with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters. Also, in this chapter, a reference to _Northanger Abbey._

_I wanted to post this chapter as soon as I was done with it, so here it is; hope you'll like it. And I'll post the replies to the reviews this week!_

* * *

It was not without worry that Elizabeth first learnt of Kitty's engagement. For a young and impressionable person, to form an attachment so quickly, without seeking anyone's counsel, seemed hasty and ill-considered; but Elizabeth's alarms were soon soothed. The Darcys' friends conveyed the intelligence that Dr Campbell was a respected, upstanding citizen in his community; that he was well-liked by his neighbours; and that his income, though not as large as Charles Bingley's or Fitzwilliam Darcy's, was sufficient to provide for Kitty's needs. The young lady in question, when challenged, readily acknowledged that she would live comfortably enough, though without extravagance; and this was proof to her older sister that no greed, no mercenary motives had entered her heart.

Furthermore, Kitty's own accounts of her interactions with Dr Campbell invariably cast him in a very favourable light. Elizabeth had to admit that he had shown himself to be a very gentle, sensible man, proper in his attentions to Kitty; and to do the latter justice, Elizabeth must concede that her exuberance, though not abated, was now tempered enough as to show promise that in the future, _she _would not want for propriety ever again.

Kitty had been allowed to write to her fiancé; Elizabeth was amused to watch her sister, once a very indifferent correspondent, now sitting down with concentration, her quill alternatively stilling and moving liberally across the paper, as she described how empty her days seemed without him and pictured with unlimited pleasure how delightful life as Mrs Campbell would be. _His_ replies, though more concise and to the point, were not devoid of feeling; his words gave her patience and fortitude, and since Henry's judgments were shared with the rest of the family, Elizabeth witnessed first-hand how her sister matured. Her initial misgivings gave way to relief; she was optimistic that in spite of Kitty's youth, this marriage would be the making of her sister. With a kind, sensible man to guide her; with the assurance that in the country, Mrs Campbell would get the opportunity to shine, removed from the more brilliant society of London, Kitty had a genuine chance of happiness.

This was something of a novelty to Elizabeth. She and Jane had had their fair share of trials and tribulations to marry the men they loved; and of Lydia's own path to a disappointing union, the less said the better. Kitty's courtship, with no great obstacles, no long months of doubts and anxiety, was much wondered at; and while the circumstances could not compare, her honesty forced her to admit that Kitty's own nature had played a part in this happy resolution. She might not have needed to fight ill-will, prejudices, meddlers and slanders; but she had not complicated matters either. She had communicated clearly with Dr Campbell, had encouraged him enough to provoke him into proposing; she had not been plagued with self-doubt; her mixture of common sense and spontaneity, matched with Dr Campbell's even temper, had kept the whole affair simple; both had been forthright and upfront in their intentions.

Her rejoicing in her sister's engagement could not blind her to Georgiana's quiet despondency. She did not know what had transpired between her and Mr Harding; Georgiana could only say that, though he had been the perfect picture of amiability, she had not wished to further the acquaintance. Elizabeth had given her all the guarantees that she was free to reject Mr Harding's attentions if they were unwelcome; however, she could not help but question Georgiana's indifference to Mr Harding. Did her sadness only stem from the pain of hurting him, or was she regretting her rejection?

Between Kitty's panegyrics on Dr Campbell, she tried to get _her _observations Georgiana and Mr Harding.

"I thought at first that her shyness alone prevented her from encouraging him," Kitty said; "but in the last days before we left, Georgiana acted distant, cold even. I do not know what to think anymore. Perhaps she never did care for him at all."

Elizabeth kept silent. Kitty talked with renewed confidence:

"If Georgiana has not agreed to a courtship, it means that she has doubts. Why should we discuss it further? If she is not sure of him the way I am sure of dear Henry, she ought not marry him," she settled with the assurance of a young lady safely engaged who was now fancying herself an expert in all matters of the heart.

There was wisdom in these words, Elizabeth reflected. Although she was still concerned by Georgiana, she found satisfaction in Kitty, who was showing great promise; she was also beginning to wonder if her past judgments on her younger sisters had not been too definite. The consequences of Lydia's folly had been felt very deeply, were still being felt; Jane's generosity, her own, was being applied to. Lydia had not learnt from her mistakes. The birth of her baby boy was used to request that her richer sisters subvention the Wickhams' lifestyle. Of Lydia Elizabeth could expect nothing; but she now acknowledged that she had often felt acute mortification on behalf of Kitty and Mary, who though awkward and sometimes lacking propriety, had never deserved to be lumped in with Lydia as "the silliest girls in England."

Mary was the object of some remorse. Mary, whose letters seemed to console Georgiana; Mary, who appeared to be a supportive friend, when her own sister had never suspected that she could do anything else beyond offering sanctimonious soliloquies! Had the potential been there all along, and _she _had not seen it? Too busy trying to rein in their mother and younger sisters' boisterousness had she and Jane overlooked Mary's desire to carve a path for herself?

If they had neglected Mary, there would be ways to right this wrong. In a few weeks' time, they would leave London. Kitty was to be married from Longbourn; Mary would be asked to attend the ceremony, and Jane would offer her to stay first at Netherfield, then to travel to London with Bingley and her. Kitty had reaped the benefits from her sisters' marriages; it was only fair that Mary should get the opportunity to get away from the confined society of Longbourn too. Indeed, Jane was feeling wretched; had she but suspected that Mary would rather not stay at home, she would have concocted the scheme earlier.

* * *

Mary did not know of her sisters' plans. If she had, she would have felt far less grateful than expected; for strong was the temptation, in the light of recent realizations, to return to her previous state of disengaged moralist. She was no longer uninvolved in the world; she had started to live in it and the aftereffects of this decision were troubling her peace of mind.

In all likelihood, Lord Glowner's proposal and her subsequent meditations had hastened the process of discovering what was in her heart. Mary had been unprepared for this revelation; there had been no signs, no slow build towards this conclusion. She had never considered "the start of a promising inclination"; she had not surmised that there were "rational grounds for an attachment." To find out that her heart was already miles ahead of her head, which had not even begun to form the idea of having a _tendre _for Mr Bertram, was disconcerting to say the least.

She could not comprehend how Mr Bertram had captured her heart; he, who was so removed from her preconceived notions of what a young man ought to be! He, who was not of a studious, retiring disposition; who was so far from her ideals that the mere suggestion of her partiality towards him was ludicrous!

Unschooled in those matters, which she had always observed with distant bemusement, Mary did not suspect that Mr Bertram's open nature and stimulating discourse were the very things which could rouse her feelings; for she was far more capable of feeling, and deep feeling at that, than she believed herself to be. She had prized intellect above emotion, hoping to separate them entirely; appalled, perhaps, by the wild excesses of her mother and her younger sisters. She had relied on her rational mind to guide her, selecting books which could only elevate her reflections; but her passion for music betrayed her unacknowledged sensibility.

In music, there was this indeterminate something which elicited an immediate, unrepressed emotional response from her. Her savage moods, her unexplained restlessness, all were echoed then in these unassuming sheets of paper; and later, the friendship of Mrs Traumayn, Georgiana and Susan had led her to give free reign to those more delicate feelings. In their company, she had learnt to value a good heart over the appearance of propriety; she had discovered the pleasures of cheerfulness over cold and formal ways.

Mary faltered as she recalled how strongly she had reacted, when faced with Mr Bertram's careless ways; how it had been utterly unacceptable that he should lose his enthusiasm and become a cold, empty shell of a man!

Mary was not wrong in surmising that her friendships had steered her towards love; without saying anything of Susan's attempts to have her cousin and Miss Bennet meet as often as possible, these friendships had taught Mary to care for others. The mere habit of learning to love is the thing; Mary had always been an apt pupil, and the conclusion was foregone.

She was interrupted in her thoughts by the arrival of Susan, who looked quite out of breath. Her friend held a letter in her hand; she was flushed and very agitated.

"Mary, you must read this!" she cried. "I do not know what to make of it; you must tell me whether we can believe this account! I still hold _him _to be the most disagreeable man of my acquaintance; but he would not demean himself to lie, would he? Nay, he is too proud for this."

It took Mary the best of several minutes to get Susan coherent; at last, she was able to speak intelligibly.

On the day of his departure, the Earl of Hampstead had left Mr Harrison a letter, to be given to her. Mr Harrison had done so yesterday, despite his reluctance, because the Earl had sworn that the content of this letter was of interest to Miss Price, as to offer her both apologies and a much needed explanation on a subject they were all invested in. Susan had finally read the letter this very morning; wordlessly she showed it to Mary:

From Lawrence Sanders, Earl of Hampstead, to Susan Price:

Be not alarmed, Miss Price, in receiving this letter; it is not my intent to pursue our quarrel. The recollection of what was said would only bring shame and regret to us both; it cannot be forgotten too soon.

It is not in my habits to explain myself; if I must do so in this letter, it is to defend Hadrian Harding. You may think the worst of me; you may judge me arrogant, proud, and not fit to be a gentleman. I cannot defend my behavior towards you in our last encounter, which was the result of my unyielding temper- my anger got the best of me, and you were not the one who ought to have bear the brunt of it- but these are justifications. Justifications are only consolations to the one who uses them to soothe his bothered conscience; they can be no relief to _you, _the injured party. To my shame, you have every right to despise me; I shall not contest it. Although my pride was injured when you were ready to believe that I could associate with a man of loose character; that my most intimate friend could be slandered thus! I confess that I was as angry on my account as I was on his. If you only met Harding, you would understand how absurd these suspicions are. I am furious that the bad opinion you must now have of me could prejudice you against him. He is the better man of the two, although _you _will say that it is hardly difficult to be a better man than I am.

I befriended him three or four years ago. He was the same then as he is today: unaffected, sensible, well-liked by everyone. No unkind words have ever passed his lips; he makes friends easily; offers his assistance without being prompted to, and he is as sociable as I am taciturn.

Through him I met Harrison and Rickman; Harrison you know, talkative and good-natured. Rickman was a stern young man, with a strong sense of duty; and I would have liked him better, if I had not suspected that he cultivated Harding's company more for his eligibility- he wanted his only sister to make a good match- than out of true friendship.

Rickman also introduced us to Lord Glowner. He and I were late additions to this close circle of friends. I have to say that we disliked the other on sight. He could be charming, and attentive; he could talk well, with sense; but he was also too calculating for my tastes. In the pursuit of his interests, he did not show much kindness to others; he had a streak of selfishness which he concealed from our friends. What motivated his dislike of me? I can only postulate that he observed that I had superior powers of perception than our friends; and that he might have been jealous of my being of independent means and of an elevated rank, for he was much attached to his title without having yet the wealth which must come with it. He was all set to inherit the fortune of a rich Aunt, who lived in the same country as the Rickmans. This was during one of his frequent visits to her that he had met Rickman.

There was one year when we often met at Rickman's; Glowner, for it was in his interest to stay in his Aunt's vicinity, since I cannot recall one single word or expression of genuine affection for her; Harding, because he was attracted to the society of Miss Rickman; and Harrison and I, because we wanted the company of our friends.

I witnessed Harding's attentions to Miss Rickman with some trepidation. He was young, and I fancied, less hardened than I; the death of his father and the shouldering of responsibilities at an early age had left him all too amenable to marry in haste, to quench his thirst for affection. His friendship with Rickman also made him all the more eager to unite their families. If I doubted the foundations of his regard for her, I could see no proof of her affection for him. Miss Rickman was an accomplished young lady, which does not signify at all; this means that we all knew that she painted tables painstakingly, and that she mumbled Italian conscientiously; but her character was a mystery to us, as it is often the case with young ladies who are trained to reveal nothing of them. Had she been half as candid as _you_ are, in spite of the occasional lack of propriety you display, I would have been certain of my friend's happiness; but while his attentions pleased her vanity, I could not vouch for her heart.

As for what follows, I must rely on your silence. Miss Bennet and Miss Darcy, if you find it worthwhile to instruct them, you may, for I trust they shall not disclose to the world what I am about to tell you.

Miss Rickman eloped the day before Harding was due to visit and most likely, propose. At least she attempted to run away, but she did not go as far as several miles. It turned out that the man for whom she had thoughtlessly risked her reputation, on the hopes that he would make good on his earlier hints or promises and marry her; the man who had asked her to accept my friend's attentions to better screen _them f_rom public scrutiny; the man she had lied for all year until the situation with Harding became untenable; the man who had entreated her to shroud their relation in secrecy until he was free from external influences; that man had now rejected her! He had barely admitted to some flirtation, which she had taken to heart; and he had reminded her that she was all but engaged to Harding!

He left her in this state: ashamed, distressed, with nowhere to go. Her steps led her back to the inn, where by the most amazing coincidence she met Harding who had journeyed early. She could not lie to him: she wept, implored his forgiveness, and let out the whole affair. He consoled her to the best of his ability. I can still recall his expression when he told me the story, months after these fateful events- how shocked and betrayed he had felt, yet he could not resent her, so despairing; who had been led astray by some cruel seducer; who had felt such a strain while he was obliviously courting her!

Where he erred, in my opinion, was in not questioning her more thoroughly. She refused to give up the name of this seducer; Harding did not press her further. He convinced her to go home; all this had happened in the course of a day; the scandal could be hushed. He faced her brother with flimsy excuses, all made in the spirit of protecting her conduct from disapproval. However, there was the letter she had foolishly left, which contradicted his innocent explanations; and Miss Rickman could only sob. She had begged him to hide her own deceptions; in shielding her, he took all the blame. I was irate when he confided in me months later, for Rickman felt wronged, and while fear of exposure prevented him from challenging Harding, I knew that the severed connection would give cause for speculation.

The whole thing was hushed as quickly as possible; Miss Rickman was sent to faraway parents. I must admit that, although I wished she had spoken up to clear Harding's name, she did not attempt to coerce him into matrimony. He would not claim a heart which was not his, and she appeared to have loved passionately, if not wisely, the man who had failed her

Now, I shall relay my own observations. I never told a single soul about them, for I had no proof; only what my eyes saw; what my instincts detected.

Lord Glowner visited the Rickmans as often, if not more, as we did, on account of his Aunt residing nearby. He was very careful with Miss Rickman; too cautious, perhaps. They were so intent on ignoring each other in company, that this behaviour ignited my very suspicions.

They talked very little, as far as one could tell; but there were quick glances, half-smirks; symptoms of intelligence between them…

Further deliberations confirmed the possibility of the existence of such a tangled web. He could have hinted at the tyranny of his Aunt, supportive of his marrying well, to require secrecy. It may be no coincidence that when Miss Rickman eloped, Lord Glowner's Aunt had passed away a fortnight ago. There were no obstacles to their union; and Glowner's silence could not be explained anymore.

For my part, I believe he never had any serious intent to marry her; that he had toyed with her affections mostly due to boredom; and that he blamed her entirely for her elopement. He is a man who hates coercion of any kind, unless he is the one to exact it. Miss Rickman could be a passing fancy, but not the future Lady Glowner. On the rare occasion he allowed himself to tell us about his ideal woman, he made clear that he should seek an unexceptionable creature, with complexity enough to intrigue him. Easy conquests he reviled, forgetting his share of the blame.

I stayed silent, eager to get Harding away from the debacle; anything I could say could be misconstrued as lies for his sake. However, if my silence has encouraged these abhorrent rumours; if this sad affair stands in the way of his happiness; then, perhaps, I concede it to you, my silence may have done more harm than good.

I cannot stand meddling, even with the best intentions. I maintain that your methods were imprudent and that such affairs must be handled with more caution and care; but I have also come to the conclusion that _you_ I should not have questioned. I can hardly blame you for your honesty when I censure the world for its hypocrisy.

* * *

Mary read this in astonishment; but before she could analyse the content of the letter, one point must be cleared:

"What is he apologizing for, Susan?" she asked with concern.

Susan gave the details of their altercation, down to the Portsmouth comment. She tried to laugh it off:

"He did not surprise me in the least. This is how he sees me; to a great gentleman like him, I am an insignificant Portsmouth nobody. Do not be indignant on my behalf, Mary; people have whispered far worse behind my back, and I do not expect my circumstances to be erased from their memory. If this is the only matter of consequence to them, I shall not desire their esteem."

Although she spoke cheerfully, she could not deceive her friend. Mary knew that under her bravado, Susan was loath to appear ignorant or ill-bred. She had not grown in comfort and leisure, unlike _him_; the pain his words had caused would not be soon forgotten. Many older and wiser ladies than Susan had let such slights poison their minds.

"Forget him," Mary cried. "If he could not see your worth, he is a fool; and while his letter does appear to indicate that he repents now, he must beg your forgiveness- and beg it in person! His pride is not entirely humbled yet. His apologies are still lacking. Let them not trouble yourself, Susan; your friends see you, and they value you too much to let all the Earls in the world offend you ever again!"

Susan pressed Mary's hand, and they walked in silence for a while.

"Confounding man!" Susan said at last. "I cannot forget he wrote this letter to me. I do not know what to make of the style in which he apologized. Some parts were almost as bad as his slight- I have spent the whole time feeling alternatively mollified and miffed again!"

If the intended recipient of the letter was confused, so was the sender; this, Susan could not suspect. She pictured the Earl sitting ramrod straight at his desk, writing with sober resolve; but the cool-headed gentleman could not tackle this subject with the same clearness of mind in which he wrote business letters. He was unused to writing explanations; and even less used to apologizing. It occurred to him that the mere privilege of receiving an apology from the Earl of Hampstead would doubtless soften the blow; and perhaps Miss Price would have looked on these clumsy attempts with more indulgence, had she been made aware of the distinction he was bestowing on her. As this was not the case, her perplexity overcame her gratitude; she thought him as stiff and proud in writing as he stood in reality. Indeed, she would have gone on disliking him very much, but for his last words.

* * *

When they had exhausted the subject of the Earl, Susan and Mary tackled his account of the events. Mary recollected Lord Glowner's own account; and she recollected other things as well, such as his trouble, which he could not disguise, when she had mentioned his acquaintance with the Rickmans. How defiant, how very much on his guard he had been at such a casual remark! Then, his mind had quickly jumped to the conclusion that the Earl had spoken ill of _him_. "What tales did Hampstead spin to you?" As soon as Mary had assured him that the Earl had said nothing, and as soon as she had directed her enquiries after Harding, the change in his posture had been immediate; she could only marvel at his audacity.

How intricately he had mixed half-truths and lies, even lending to Harding some of his own reactions to Miss Rickman. "Her eagerness to move up in the world might have made her willingly misconstrue his mild flirtation!"

But he had betrayed himself, when he had spoken of "Harding, who was all set to inherit his father's fortune."

"For Mr Harding's father had passed away; Mr Harding was of independent means already," she told Susan. "It was he, Lord Glowner, who had expectations; he, who was all set to inherit his Aunt's fortune."

That Lord Glowner had made her an offer she did not add; that she should be the ideal creature he had deemed good enough for him to marry could afford her no pleasure. His selfishness, his willingness to put the blame on others' shoulders, she found disgusting; if there was some irony in the fact that the bookish Miss Bennet had been proposed to by a rake, Mary was far from appreciating it.

With the help of Susan, she went on comparing the accounts, assessing what they knew with what they heard. They decided that, as per the Earl's wishes, Lord Glowner's past actions could not be revealed to their friends; but they set out to write to Georgiana at once. Mary was certain that Harding's innocence would be welcomed with happiness by Miss Darcy.

At least _one _attachment could find a joyful resolution; at least _one _young lady would not be confused anymore.

* * *

"The new Mrs Rushworth is rumoured to enjoy London too much to consider residing in the country; as for her husband, there are too many painful memories associated with this house; so we can safely assume that Sotherton will remain closed off this year."

So spoke Mrs Brereton; she was quickly hushed by Colonel Harrison and Lady Prescott. There was a small party comprising of the Harrisons, Mr Maddox, the Prescotts, Mrs Traumayn and Mary, hosted by the Olivers. Mr Bertram was expected too, but he had not arrived yet, to the satisfaction of Mrs Brereton who went on:

"Oh, Mrs Traumayn and Miss Bennet do not know the particulars, but we are all friends here. The misfortune which befell the Bertrams…"

At this she was quelled by a severe look from Lady Prescott. Colonel Harrison began a loud tale on a military campaign, leaving Mary curious and regretting Lady Prescott's intervention.

Mr Maddox, who was seated nearby, took pity on her. He came closer:

"I understand how frustrating it must be, after months of sharing the intimacy of our circle, to find oneself excluded from what passes for common knowledge in the country. Being a close friend to the Bertrams, you have some right to the truth; and I find it better to hear it from a reliable source instead of speculating wildly, as such ignorance is bound to invite all flights of fancies."

Mary merely nodded, anxious that she would not look too curious. This was enough for Mr Maddox, who explained that a sister from Mr Bertram, the former Mrs Rushworth, had caused quite a scandal some time ago. She had eloped with a man they had all welcomed in their midst, a friend of the Bertrams, a Mr Crawford; then, divorced and abandoned by her lover, she had retired to another country in disgrace.

Mary thought of Lydia, well aware of the repercussions of such a scandal. She was reminded of a bit of gossip she had overheard months ago: "All the trouble Sir Bertram's elder had brought to the family…"

Was it Mrs Rushworth, then? The elder _daughter_, not the elder son? Had she misjudged him from the start?

"What wretchedness!" she acquiesced. "I cannot imagine what Mr Bertram must have felt."

"This was a hard blow," Mr Maddox answered. "He was not well at the time- an accident had left him in poor health, deserted by the company he kept- not very good friends, I say-, he blamed himself for having encouraged the intimacy of Mr Crawford and his sister with the theatricals he had planned to put at Mansfield."

"I was told," Mary gathered her courage, "that he had gambled heavily at some point."

"Oh, he did lose some money; nothing a few years' worth of economy did not compensate. His estate is now unencumbered. Bertram was not a true gambler. He never was in danger of being in Dun territory. He acted carelessly, as so many elder sons are wont to do; but he regained his senses soon enough. To be honest, I thought his illness, serious as it was, a blessing in disguise. He has not been the same ever since. He is more conscious of his duties. Nothing like some trials to turn us into who we are supposed to be; don't you agree, Miss Bennet?"

Mary readily agreed. She was deeply mortified inside. How prompt she had been in believing Mr Bertram to be flawed and unsteady! It was Lord Glowner too, she recollected, who had declared Mr Bertram to be a gambler; a very clever liar through and through, disguising the truth expertly; but she was not without faults. She had been gullible. She had revelled in her moral superiority, in the same way she used to preen when being touted as the most accomplished girl in the neighbourhood by Sir Lucas. Her morals did not put her above the rest; and she was beginning to understand that some people were not as good, and others not as bad, as they first appeared.

She was disappointed in herself, in her hastily-conceived verdicts; she was experiencing confusion after confusion. In all this, only Mr Bertram came out unscathed, for she could no longer claim that his character was totally unsuitable. He might not have been her idea of what a young man ought to be, but experience was teaching her that she ought to revise her past judgments.

Mr Maddox did not see any of this turmoil, and left Miss Bennet's side without suspecting than a single conversation had made him a better matchmaker than the enterprising Miss Price.

* * *

At last Mr Bertram arrived at the Olivers'; he greeted everyone, then his eyes rested upon Mary.

She had always thought the expression "violently in love" hackneyed as to be devoid of any meaning. It evoked a disease; but Mr Bertram came her way. Suddenly, she was aware of everything and nothing at once. Her hands went cold and her cheeks grew hot; her pulse quickened. When he said "Miss Bennet" and bowed, she felt so out of breath, as though she had been running instead of standing quite still, that she could only curtsy in return.

The experience of being in love was a novelty, but Mary felt that it must already wear off; for its early effects were most unpleasant, and to put it bluntly, terrifying. If there was some latent exhilaration, it was so fleeting, buried under layers of confusion, and smothered by thoughts in disarray, that Mary could not sense it.

However, she could not ignore it any longer: she was in love with Mr Bertram, and nothing could be done about it.

* * *

_-Next chapter: more on Georgiana, Susan meddles, Tom and Mary talk, and sudden departures change the situation... _

_-as usual, feedback is always deeply appreciated!_


	26. Of ambushes and confessions

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan Price. Crossover with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters. Also, in this chapter, a reference to _Emma _and some paraphrasing of _Mansfield Park_ quotes_._

_I will post the replies to last chapter's during the week._

* * *

Georgiana took quick, unsteady breaths. The content of Mary's letter swirled in her head: Mr. Harding was innocent.

It was as though a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. She had known how badly she needed him to be innocent, while fearing that she would never be privy to the truth. Yet Mary, dear Mary, had taken upon herself to investigate the matter further. Georgiana was grateful to her for this mark of concern; but she felt ashamed of her lack of courage.

She had let herself be swayed by mere gossip; she had not used Mary's tactics, prodding and enquiring. Her shyness and her discretion had done Mr. Harding a great disservice, for she had not given him the possibility of defending himself against those base accusations. Indeed, how she had repaid his hospitality! By fleeing without explanation, retreating into her shell that was both her prison and her shelter; leading _him _to believe that she doubted his character.

"It was not that I did not trust him; it was that I did not trust myself," she thought in a sudden burst of clarity. She had not been wise; she had been scared; too scared to rely on her own judgment, too scared of even _using _it. How deep-rooted and irrational this fear was, for her to put her happiness in the hands of virtual strangers; to give more credit to rumours above her own observations?

She wept bitterly. She had rejected him; it was folly to expect the rekindling of the feelings she had injured. It was too late now; but she could apologize. She must apologize; her conscience dictated it.

She took a quill and started to write. Several botched attempts later, she despaired of her ever conveying her remorse accurately. She was too ceremonious; her meaning was unintelligible; and the bounds of propriety prevented her from writing what she felt in her heart.

Several days passed thus. Georgiana was swept up by Kitty's talks of her wedding trousseau; she was asked to look at fashion plates and to give her advice on hats and pelisses; but this was a short-lived reprieve as the nights found her staring at blank sheets of papers, trying to find the right words and failing abysmally.

She was in the living room with Kitty and Elizabeth when Mr. Harding called on them, requesting a private audience with Miss Darcy.

Elizabeth glanced at her and mistook the alteration of her features.

"You are not obligated to see him if his presence upsets you, Georgiana," she said decisively. "I shall tell him that you won't receive him."

Her fears were not as Elizabeth suspected, but they made her so uncomfortable that she would have welcomed any kind of escape. How could she face him? Tell him how she had wronged him? The urge to run to the safety of her room was overwhelming; but she must be brave. Mr. Harding was owed her apologies. It was time for her to take matters into her own hands; and at last Georgiana found her voice.

"I thank you, but I must see him. Indeed, I have so many things to tell him, that I hardly know where to begin."

Elizabeth recognized her resolve:

"Then you shall meet him. Come, Kitty, let us retire," she said, sensing her sister-in-law's need for unreserved conversation.

Mr. Harding entered. He bowed uneasily, and she curtsied awkwardly. After a moment, he began to speak. He begged Miss Darcy's pardon for visiting when the memory of their recent interactions must be painful for both of them. Indeed, he would not have come at all if some capital information had not been imparted to him by his friend Hampstead. He was not here to attempt to change her heart; he only asked for the right to defend his reputation. If Miss Darcy would listen to him, he would give her the full explanation of his conduct, which he had not been free to do until now. Then, he would go away and not impose on her any further.

Petrified, Georgiana could only nod as he told her of the events Mary had diligently reported in her letter. He spoke in an even tone of voice, careful to be as objective as possible. Only a catch in his voice, even now and then, betrayed the sorrow and humiliation he must have felt.

Her heart went out to him. If he noticed that her eyes shone brighter with unshed tears, he made no sign that he did.

"I am free to tell you all of this, Miss Darcy, as Hampstead, made aware of the lingering rumours, has convinced Miss Rickman to tell the truth to her brother. He argued that the duplicity of Glowner was the greatest crime of the matter, and that her silence only allowed him to leave him unpunished. He has never ceased to be a very good friend to me, in the same way I am told that Miss Bennet and Miss Price have proved their loyalty to you."

He paused a little.

"I can confide in your discretion, Miss Darcy. I can only hope that if you ever gave credit to these rumours, my confession has redeemed me in your eyes. I could not bear to part ways thinking that you still believe me a scoundrel."

She must say something, anything to retain him; she needed to explain herself fully too. She had been betrayed too, she wanted to cry out. Yet her throat went dry, the words could not come out. She could not shake the feeling that there was a battle underway, and that its outcome could ruin her chance at happiness. The shadow of Wickham hovered over her; but with a supreme effort of will, she faced it down and it lost its hold on her.

"Mr. Harding, wait!" she managed to get out.

The young man looked at her warily. The humiliation of his tale, the knowledge that she had been so prompt to believe the odious gossip, made the atmosphere tense and unhappy.

Apologies would be meaningless. If she genuinely wished to make amends, she must be sincere. Nothing must come between them, she thought clearly. No more omissions, no more lies.

"Please sit down," she said. "It is my turn to confess something to you, too."

His expression grew curious as he sat down. Georgiana began softly:

"When I was fifteen, I went to Ramsgate with Mrs. Long, the woman who was my companion then, whom I trusted to guide me…"

* * *

The seconds trickled down after Georgiana's confession was over.

"Miss Darcy," Mr. Harding prodded gently.

Eyes downcast, Georgiana refused to meet his eyes. She could not suffer his expression of disgust.

"Please, look at me."

She did. His gaze was kind and inquisitive.

"Why did you tell me this story?" he asked.

"I should have asked you the truth, but I was too much of a coward to do so. To help me, my friends have stumbled upon your secrets. It was only fair that I told you mine in return," she said.

He stayed silent.

"I have experienced betrayal, too," she whispered. "This is why I loathe lies- but I have been lying to you as well. You deserve the truth, even though the truth makes me ashamed," she added in a lower tone.

"Ashamed!" Mr. Harding exclaimed with some astonishment. "My dear Miss Darcy, how can you still feel ashamed of something which happened when you were only fifteen!" He gave a bitter half-smile. "You had no more cause to suspect the motives of those who were close to you than _I _did."

Stunned by his reaction, she gaped at him.

He said in earnest:

"When it would have been so much easier to run away, you could not lie outright to your brother. You stood to lose so much, but you could not find it in yourself to carry on the deception. You owned it up then, and you did it again today."

He looked at her admiringly:

"Knowing your brother, hardly a soul must be aware of what transpired then. I am touched by your proof of trust- dare I hope that this was…?"

"Yes, yes," she said; "I trust you. I cannot begin to express how much I wish that we could go back- but you must think it impossible!"

"Is it your wish?" he asked seriously. "We might need some time; but if you are willing to take it, may we renew our acquaintance?"

Georgiana acquiesced eagerly.

"Come, Miss Darcy, let us shake hands and be friends again," he said with some of his usual good humour. She obliged; and both went to inform Elizabeth and Kitty of this new development. Not everything was resolved; but they were hopeful that time would allow them to further their intimacy. Unlike many other young people, they did not mind the wait; both unlucky in their first love, they had learnt the hard way that lasting happiness did not always come easily.

However, there was a new understanding between them that had not been there before, which they felt was promising; and in the midst of this reconciliation, they spared a thought for the chain of diligent and officious friends who had brought them together again.

* * *

The time came for the Yates and Miss Sanders to feel that the pleasures of London were claiming them. They took their leave of the neighbourhood in a grand fashion, Miss Sanders saying to every young lady or gentleman that she did not doubt that they should all meet again in London very soon, with a very pointed smile designed to give rise to many a speculation.

* * *

"It would please me greatly, Tom," Sir Bertram began upon seeing his son looking uncharacteristically dull the day after the departure of Miss Sanders, "to see you settled at Mansfield. I was younger than you are when I married your mother."

Sir Bertram had not always been a fervent matchmaker. However, the past troubles of his children had persuaded him to take a proactive stance rather than to let events follow their natural course. Indeed, while Sir Bertram was too dignified to invoke the state of his nerves, the past years, with their lot of misfortunes, had been quite trying, and had forced him to reconsider his involvement in his children's lives. It stood to reason that Tom, as the last of the remaining unmarried Bertram, should be the focus of Sir Thomas. While Mr. Bertram had never given his father any trouble in _this_ area, remaining quite happily free from any romantic entanglements, Sir Thomas was determined that he should see his son in marital bliss.

Sensing that his son seemed more receptive than usual, Sir Bertram dispensed his advice:

"Do not be captivated by a young lady," he cautioned, which was somewhat unjust of him, since himself had been captivated by the looks of the former Miss Ward, now Lady Bertram, some thirty years ago.

"In her morals, in her deportment, she must be unexceptional. You do know that I do not care anymore for mercenary motives- let her only be worthy, Tom, and I shall be content."

"Assuming, Sir, that such a lady does exist," Mr. Bertram ventured, startling his father as the young gentleman had always been very cautious in his refusal to be swept up in talks of hypothetical nuptials.

Sir Bertram gave a knowing smile, satisfied with his own powers of perception.

"What if the lady does not deem _me_ worthy?" Mr. Bertram inquired.

No obstacle of the kind having entered Sir Thomas' schemes, he was left speechless.

"Nonsense! You are the elder son of Sir Bertram of Mansfield Park," he declared at last.

"My status of elder son does not plead in my favour", Mr. Bertram said wryly.

"Apart from my being born, what have I done, Sir, to be your son?"

Taken aback by his unexpected gravity, Sir Bertram gave him a searching look. What he saw filled him with hope and pride.

"You have done quite well these past weeks, Tom. If you pursue this path, no one could deem you unworthy."

* * *

"I am so glad that Miss Bennet shall visit us today!" Susan said. "You have been too busy to properly talk to her these past weeks. Haven't you missed her company?" she asked.

"I have," Mr. Bertram answered with more sincerity than prudence. It was the second time in the day that he was ambushed, and his usual quick-wittedness was markedly absent.

Susan peered at him thoughtfully:

"You did not quarrel with Miss Bennet, did you? She did not say anything to me on the matter, but she looked pained and awkward when you were mentioned."

"I did not quarrel with Miss Bennet," Mr. Bertram stated. Indeed, this was not quite a lie, as _she_ had been the one to lecture him thoroughly, though not undeservedly.

"I do hope so, for I have been suffering through many miserable looks and despondent sighs" Susan said. At Mr. Bertram's denial, she gave him a quelling stare:

"_She_ looked miserable and _you _sighed despondently."

While Mr. Bertram attempted to word a strong rebuttal to refute the evidence, Susan said innocently:

"You are both happier when you are together. So I noticed."

Mr. Bertram finally understood Susan's intent. He would have suspected her of conspiring with his father; but the likelihood of Sir Bertram enlisting his young cousin's help was so low that Mr. Bertram had to resign himself to the fact that his romantic prospects had somehow become the concerns of the whole household.

"Susan, are you trying to play matchmaker?"

A look at his cousin's face confirmed his suspicions.

"Miss Bennet did not take you into her confidence, did she?"

"She did not, but…" Susan was interrupted by Mr. Bertram. His tone was firm:

"Such matters are very delicate, Susan. Running interference could do more harm than good. What do you know of the state of Miss Bennet's heart? Do not presume too much of her feelings… and of mine!" he remembered to add, for Susan was not unobservant; the omission of _his_ feelings was a loophole she would be quick to point out.

Susan bowed her head sheepishly.

"You have chosen better for me better than I could have done for myself," Mr. Bertram allowed, not unkindly. "There is, however, the small matter of Miss Bennet and I being amenable to the match that you forgot to take into consideration."

* * *

It was Mary's turn to feel ambushed this day. There was no Susan in sight in their usual room, but an expecting Mr. Bertram. The memory of their last _tête-à-tête, _coupled with her newfound realisations, brought colour to her cheeks. Mary was acutely aware that she must keep her composure at all costs lest Mr. Bertram guess the source of her confusion.

"Susan shall come presently," Mr. Bertram said. He paused and looked at her.

"With all the animation of the past days, we were not able to see much of each other."

Mary would have objected that _he_ had been avoiding her, but she thought better of it.

"While I felt keenly the loss of your company during this time, you must have welcomed the respite from all my trifling." His tone was self-deprecating.

"I understand that you have been very busy, taking care of serious business which must trump other engagements," she said earnestly.

After these words, she feared that she sounded conceited, implying that her actions had persuaded him to modify his behavior. She did not want to remind him of her lecture, but Mr. Bertram did not share her scruples.

"I must thank you, Miss Bennet, for your intervention."

At this Mary lifted her gaze. Mr. Bertram went on:

"True friends do not desert you in your hour of need," he said, a shadow passing over his features. "They will, however, challenge you if they think it necessary, sometimes in a vigorous fashion," he directed a smile at Mary, who blushed at the reminiscence of her forceful ways.

"I have regretted the manner in which I expressed myself," she confessed, "but I could not regret the concern behind it."

"Do not fret, Miss Bennet," he replied. A twinkle entered his eyes. "I am well aware that you are a lady of strong opinions. Besides, I needed the shock. Indeed, it was salutary. Had you exercised more caution, it might not have had the same effects. Indeed, I must confess that subtlety does not work on me."

"You give yourself too little credit," Mary countered. "I believe your understanding is sounder than you like to make it appear- you cannot hide it anymore."

"Is this your opinion?" he asked, looking genuinely interested in her answer.

"Indeed it is," Mary did not hesitate.

There was a pause. Mary was pleased that their friendship had not been altered; while Mr. Bertram appeared to be considering some complex scheme.

"I have plans, Miss Bennet," he said suddenly. "There is so much to do- so much to improve."

His voice quivered with barely repressed energy. Distantly, Mary thought to herself that this was a beautiful sound.

"My father is set in his ways; but I do not despair of convincing him of my usefulness. He spoke to me this morning. He wishes to see me settle down. He appeared to believe that my efforts could be fruitful. Indeed, if I persevere in my endeavours, he said, I might win over…I might win him over." His slip of the tongue went unnoticed by Mary.

"What do you say, Miss Bennet? Do you agree with my father?" Mr. Bertram went on, colouring slightly. "If I persevere- if I redeem myself, do you think that in time, I could prove my worth and gain the reward of some fair lady's hand?"

Underneath the lighthearted words, there was some diffidence, which surprised Mary. Mr. Bertram mistook her silence for disapproval:

"You must think the reward too high for me, and I agree with you; but as nobody minds having what is too good for them, I shall still hope for a while."

Mary did not understand this talk of rewards:

"External rewards are irrelevant to the matter at hand, I think. The satisfaction of doing the right thing must be reward enough in itself."

This was not quite the answer Mr. Bertram had been hoping for. Dimly sensing that he was being misunderstood, he tried another approach:

"I intend to go to London very soon, to take care of some business matters which have been neglected far too long. If I succeed in my mission, my father, I hope, will be pleased with its outcome."

Mary was stricken. She understood it all; Miss Sanders was in London; Mr. Bertram was ready to fulfill his father's wishes and to get married; he had just asked her, as his friend and confidante, if she believed that Miss Sanders would accept him!

It was all very logical. Why should she be surprised? Miss Sanders had been welcomed by the Yates, approved by Sir Bertram. Mrs. Brereton had talked of the upcoming match in the making. She had refused to believe it, blinded by her dislike of Miss Sanders, and, as she saw it all too clearly now, by her own partiality for Mr. Bertram.

What had she been hoping for? She chastised herself. Mr. Bertram was her polar opposite in so many ways; he was sociable, lively and in all other aspects his social position was above hers. The notion that her foolish feelings could be reciprocated was unconceivable.

Using all her mental strength to keep her breath steady and her face indifferent, she forced herself to look him in the eye. She must salvage her dignity- he must never suspect the grief she was experiencing.

"I am sorry, Mr. Bertram. You have asked my opinion on a certain subject- I must give it to you. You are free to ignore it; however, I must ask you not to act rashly. Consider carefully- do not commit to anything you cannot be sure of- indeed, do not condemn yourself!"

If Mr. Bertram wished to get married, Mary would not prevent it. She would be his friend, and never aspire to anything more; but as a true friend, she must warn him against proposing to Miss Sanders.

"Very well then," Mr. Bertram said, looking extremely discomfited.

Susan came in and tried her best to diffuse the tension, but Mr. Bertram excused himself and got out of the room. She was afraid that her matchmaking attempts had caused the relation between her cousin and Miss Bennet to sour. She did not dare to needle Mary into telling her what had happened, for once Mr. Bertram had left them, she looked so utterly wretched that for the first time, Susan thought that the Earl might have had a point on the ills of meddling.

Feeling very young and ignorant, she tried to lift Mary's mood by saying lots of silly nothings which amounted to very little; but Mary was grateful for the reprieve.

* * *

Mrs. Traumayn looked somber as she imparted the news that her sister had taken gravely ill and that her nieces had written to request her assistance.

"This might be the last chance for us to mend our relation. Our feud has lasted for so long that I cannot remember a time when I last saw my nieces. I must depart at once, or regret it for the rest of my life. I do not know how long I shall stay in Scotland."

"Scotland!" Mary repeated.

Mrs. Traumayn sighed.

"I know that you were to attend your sister wedding's in Longbourn next week, but you must leave earlier. Do not worry, my dear Miss Bennet, I shall arrange for a servant to accompany you on your travel. I also know that we must part ways, as I strongly suspect that Scotland holds little appeal to you."

"You are my employer," Mary protested out of loyalty.

"And while I was privileged to see you blossom and spread your wings, I am aware that there are other, better alternatives for you than to spend the rest of your life as a companion."

She smiled knowingly:

"I predict that in the near future, a gentleman of our acquaintance shall make you an offer you will not be able to refuse."

Mary's mind went to Lord Glowner and she shuddered.

"Please, Ma'am, do not say such thing! I am fully resolved to remain unmarried!"

Taken aback, Mrs. Traumayn said no more on the matter; but she would not relent:

"Your elder sister- Mrs. Bingley, isn't it?- has invited you to stay with her. This is a very kind offer. I understand that you may have felt neglected by your family in the past; but no one can be totally exempted from the blame. How easily we misunderstand each other!"

She paused a while, lost in thoughts of her estranged sister.

"For better or worse, most family bonds are not easy to undo. My dear child, do not miss your chance to reconcile with them. You have changed and grown so much- why shouldn't they have done the same?"

* * *

When Mary came to see Susan the following day, she learnt that Mr. Bertram had gone to London.

At least she shall not have to tell him goodbye. But to know that he had gone, discarding her advice, and so quickly after their discussion! She would not be at Mansfield for the outcome of his London visit, small mercies!

She shed tears when she said goodbye to Susan; and so did her cheerful friend. Even with the promise of faithful correspondence, both knew that the future was uncertain. When shall they meet again, without a Mrs. Traumayn to bring Mary to the county?

Susan swore that she would plead with her uncle to issue an invitation to Mary, but the latter knew better than to hope that the future mistress of Mansfield Park should grant her consent to her being a guest.

* * *

For the last time, Mary sat in front of the pianoforte. She took the sonata she used to have so much trouble to decipher. Now, however, it talked to her heart. It spoke of treasures found, and then lost. It spoke of longing so fierce it hurt. It spoke of the place she would leave, where she had laughed and loved and felt alive for the first time.

She played like she had never played before, her heart on the tips of her fingers. The knowledge and experience she had gained made her playing richer with depth and meaning. She was paying the price of this enlightenment; yet, she knew that she would never trade it back for her former, less painful ignorance.

The day after, she left for Longbourn.

* * *

_-as usual, reviews make my day (and week, and month ^^)_

_-next chapter: Mary comes home, mopes and must fight off Mrs. Bennet's new scheme..._


	27. Of schemes and familiarity

**Summary**: Follow Mary Bennet in her quest to discover her true self, as unlikely friendships are formed, tentative romances occur, and attempts at matchmaking (or insufferable meddling) run wild. Also featuring Kitty, Georgiana Darcy and Susan with Mansfield Park.

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to Jane Austen's genius. Only this plot is mine, along with a few original characters.

Also, a quote from Mansfield Park.

Thanks to all the reviewers for your encouragements! As usual, I will reply on the forum during the week.

* * *

"Miss Mary?"

Although she had been serving the Bennet family for the past twenty years, Mrs. Hill could not refrain from gaping at the young lady she had known from infancy before she recollected her duties. In a bustle of activity, Mary's luggage was taken to her room; and before long she stood in front of Mrs. Bennet and Kitty.

"Why, Mary! You look almost pretty!" was Kitty's spontaneous reaction; and though Mary could have objected to the wording of the praise, which more malicious intent might have turned into a backhanded compliment, she was soothed by the evident pleasure in Kitty's voice. She was, however, a bit puzzled by the expressions of astonishment on their faces. She could not represent to herself what they were seeing.

For Mary, the novelty of being forced into more fitting dresses by Mrs. Traumayn had worn off many months ago; her entire wardrobe had been overseen by her thoughtful friend, and if Mary had resisted it at first, she did not spare any thought to the elegance of the design or the quality of the fabric any more. There was also more than her new stylishness to confound her relatives; in the way she held herself, with no awkwardness; in her entire person, there were unfamiliar alterations. In spite of the fatigue of the journey, her complexion retained the healthy glow regular exercise and her newfound appreciation for being outdoors had brought on.

The changes had been so gradual over the course of the past months that Mary had barely taken notice of them; _feeling_ that she was becoming different from the Mary of before, there had been no time to stop and consider the effect of this transformation on external witnesses.

Mrs. Bennet was rendered mute for a few instants, which everybody knew would not last very long. She still denied her daughter any beauty; and truly, according to the universally acknowledged conventions, Mary could never be called pretty. There was, however, a truth which Mrs. Bennet was unaware of; that prettiness, without any noble feeling, without any light from the soul to sustain it, could turn the most attractive face wooden in the eyes of the onlookers; and that plainness such as Mary's, animated by her mind and heart, made her looks captivating to the more discerning.

One thought took root in her single-minded brain: that Mary's case was maybe not as hopeless as she had believed. If she could but contrive to parade in the neighbourhood this improved version of Mary; if she could scheme to promote her interests; what a triumph this could be, if she managed to get the last unmarried daughter disposed of!

She was already devising strategies with tried matchmaker flair, leaving Kitty to explain to Mary that the Darcys would not be present. Lydia and Wickham were in trouble; he had been gambling in the town where his regiment was stationed. Their affairs were so embroiled, that Elizabeth felt, in accordance with Darcy, that _they_ must try to settle solve this business as swiftly and thoroughly as could be. One sister had to be sacrificed for the sake of another; and for this reason they could not attend Kitty's wedding. Kitty had been cross; but the remains of the affection she still felt for Lydia made her more forgiving. She was certain that her Henry would never jeopardize their livelihood, for one thing; and she would not let Lydia steal her limelight again. She would be married soon, ready to embark on a new chapter of her life; she was all happy schemes instead of bitter recriminations.

Georgiana would attend her wedding, a fact which gave her as much satisfaction as it did Mary. She was staying at Netherfield, with the Bingleys; they would visit them often. Jane, with her usual tact, felt that the agitation of Mrs. Bennet could be stressful for the young bride-to-be; she meant to smooth over all the little troubles which would arise; and both Kitty and Mary were grateful for the arrangement.

* * *

Mary found herself being taken into Kitty's confidence the very evening of her arrival. If she had looked sullen, or grave, Kitty would have shrunk away; but Mary had learnt to act as a confidante and adviser to Susan, Georgiana and even to Mr. Bertram. She was thus appropriately encouraging and attentive to Kitty, who only wanted to sing Dr. Campbell's praises. After a whole ten minutes devoted to his good qualities, she recalled her early impressions of him:

"And to think that when I first met him, I told Georgiana that he looked boring, bookish and much more to your tastes! Then I got to really _know_ him, and this became out of the question," she laughed.

Mary chose to ignore the part on her own tastes. Its irony was not lost on her; but she did not care to set Kitty straight.

"How often we are led to revise our first judgments!" she sighed instead.

"If only you could find someone like Dr. Campbell!" Kitty said generously.

"I am afraid that there are no two Dr. Campbells in the world for the both of us," Mary replied dryly.

"No," Kitty conceded with evident satisfaction, "there are not two men like him."

* * *

The following days, Mary threw herself into the wedding preparations. Her help was needed; and she first welcomed anything that made her useful and kept her mind occupied. However, as much as Mary was genuinely happy for her sister, listening to her rave about Dr. Campbell and seeing her about to get her heart's desire, were painful trials. The wound was still fresh; and Mary was about to receive news of such nature as to only deepen her misery.

Georgiana was present when the blow fell. She had embraced Mary and thanked her profusely for her help in clearing Mr. Harding from suspicion; and again, Mary had expressed her joy for her friend while feeling acutely her recent disappointment when an exclamation from Kitty broke through:

"Mary, how distrait I have been! I have just recalled a message that I was to pass on to you. The day before we left London, we took our leave of most of our acquaintances there; I was introduced- or re-introduced to a very fine lady, who, upon meeting me, claimed that she had just left _you _in the county of Northampton. Miss Sanders- that was her name- asked me to give you her best wishes, and also news of her engagement!"

The colour drained from Mary's face; Georgiana grew anxious, but Kitty blabbered on, unaware of her sister's feelings:

"She would not tell me the name of her fiancé. She said that the engagement was all very new; but that the gentleman was no stranger to you."

At this Mary did not doubt anymore. Mr. Bertram had lost no time in declaring himself, it appeared; but she knew that he was a man of action.

Kitty was looking at her expectantly; Mary had to ask her to repeat herself.

"Who do you think the gentleman in question is then?"

"I suppose this must be Mr. Bertram," she answered briefly.

Kitty wanted more information; she would get the whole romantic tale; but Mary could say very little on the matter.

"I recognise you there, Mary," Kitty said with good-humoured exasperation. "You are above such things; even though I can bet that it all happened under your watch- for why else would have Miss Sanders asked to pass on this message?-, you could not recognize the signs of flirtations and attachments. _You _did not care to spy some marks of love in them."

Mary could not join in Kitty's merriment. She rose from her seat, said that she must fetch something from her room; and only in the safety of these walls she let out silent sobs.

Sometime later, she was joined by Georgiana, who kneeled by her side and clasped her hand.

When Mary had calmed down, and all that was left was grief invisible to the eye, Georgiana asked softly:

"Is he the Mr. Bertram from your letters?"

"Have I written so much about him?" Mary whispered.

"Oh, Mary," Georgiana sighed. That was all that she said; but Mary wondered at this. Had anyone close to her known her heart but herself?

* * *

Visits were in order; Mrs. Bennet loved them; this would be her last chance to show off the engaged Kitty; but if Mary had believed that she would only trail after them like she used to before, Mrs. Bennet had other plans. She made her daughter blush by loudly drawing attention to the elegance of her figure and her improved complexion. Mary must bear all this with growing mortification. Mrs. Bennet would not be shushed. Kitty attempted to talk of her incoming wedding, a subject which never failed to get her mother's attention; but for once, this tactic did not work. Mrs. Bennet was intent on securing another daughter's wedding; a military man could have said that she was on the warpath; and if Mary had known what was yet to come, she would have fled the room without further ado, and without sparing a single thought to proper decorum.

They were at their Aunt Phillips' when an austere-looking man who looked to be in his late thirties asked to be allowed to pay his respects to Mrs. Bennet and her daughters.

Mrs. Bennet elbowed sharply Mary. With a mounting sense of impending doom, Mary curtsied as Mr. Jeffereys launched himself into a long-winded speech where he lamented the fact that he had never been introduced to Mary before, hinted that much had been said about her accomplishments and that, as for him, he was anxious to listen to her on the pianoforte as soon as possible. At last he left them; but Mary could not sigh in relief. Mrs. Bennet was seeing the encounter in a whole different light:

"Mr. Jeffereys is a clerk. He works for your Uncle Phillips- and he is single!" Mrs. Bennet concluded thrillingly.

* * *

Partly by temperament, partly out of necessity, Mr. Bennet was a creature of habit. He was used to the company of his books in the same way he was inured to the constant presence of Mrs. Bennet's nerves. There was, he felt, a certain kind of comfort to be found in the familiarity of it all; and he was generally disposed to sit back and cast an amused eye on the antics of his family.

Thus, he was satisfied with Kitty's moderate progress. She might have acquired some common sense, but her relentless perusal of caps, lace and white satin soon convinced him that she had yet to become a wit. This was a somewhat unfair accusation, for when could a bride-to-be marvel at white satin, if not during her wedding preparations?

Mary, however, was another matter entirely. She was reserved; she no longer moralised over their breakfast; she would not share opinions on the frailty of human nature- and this alone almost worried her father.

At dinnertime, he saw an expression of anguish escaped her at some remark made by Kitty on her dear Henry; he mistook it and, believing that he had discovered what was distressing her, said suddenly:

"Do not be so dejected, Mary. Kitty has a new beau- you must feel left out; but your mother tells me that she has been hard at work, and I do not doubt that in due time, we shall all be as aware of this Mr. Jeffereys' virtues as we are of Dr. Campbell's."

He meant to tease her a little and to improve her sense of self-consequence, but Mary said firmly:

"Do not worry on my account, Papa. I have made up my mind. I shall never marry."

"Never marry! Ungrateful child!" Mrs. Bennet shrieked. "Mr. Jeffereys, if you only encourage him, will propose; he wants a wife who puts no airs, with morals and good connexions. And I must say that he is very gentlemanly, and very respectable; while he may not be like your brothers-in-law, he is the best that you can hope for!"

"I have not encouraged him, and I will not," Mary stated. "I wish most sincerely that he would not persevere in his attentions, for nothing can come of this."

This prompted such a flurry of lamentations from Mrs. Bennet that Mr. Bennet once again retreated to his study, regretting his innocent remark.

Mary stood her ground. Under other circumstances- if she had not left Longbourn, if she had not learnt and changed so much- she might have been prevailed upon to accept Mr. Jeffereys. As it was, she could only count as a blessing her mother's ignorance of Lord Glowner's proposal and her subsequent refusal; this could have only spurred another round of mourning only equal to what had followed Lizzie's refusal of Mr. Collins.

* * *

Kitty got married; she left with Dr. Campbell on a sunny day. Everything looked promising; Mary herself had to admit that Dr. Campbell was an upstanding young man, although she feared that his reserve might put off her more vivacious sister in the long run. But Kitty had told her that "who cares if Henry is cool in his address, when I understand his meaning?"

This observation had struck Mary most forcibly; and she was again thinking about it the following day.

Mr. Jeffereys was still pursuing her. He regarded the match as highly desirable; Miss Bennet was from a good family, her connexions had some value; her reserve towards him did her no harm, as Mr. Jeffereys was inclined to believe her docile and obedient; she was the niece of his employer Mr. Phillips, and last but not least, she was not as disagreeable to look at as he had once feared, quite the opposite, it turned out. But Mary was inflexible. They say that if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; but she was not hardened enough to believe it. Nothing could induce her to include Mr. Jeffereys in her hopes for the future, to the despair of Mrs. Bennet; and Mary found herself frequently visiting Netherfield, to be comforted by Jane and Georgiana as much as to flee her mother and Mr. Jeffereys.

It was a good thing that she could ride horseback now, as it she did not have to ask her parents for a carriage; and even without a horse at her disposal, Mary would have been equal to walking till exhaustion to the safety of Netherfield, even though she had once said that exertion should always be in proportion to what was required.

Among Georgiana and Jane, she could reminisce, and recollect those bittersweet moments with the dear friends she had left in Mansfield.

"It is natural that you should miss them," Jane said softly, "but true friendships- as I am sure that they are your true friends- stand the test of distance and the trials of separation. Who knows? Fate has unexpected ways of bringing us back together when we least expect it," she added with optimism.

These words were a balm to Mary's heart; but the present reality came back to her; the uncertainty of it all plunging her into torment again.

She must forget Mr. Bertram, and only think of him as a friend; but how hard this was now that she was aware of his worth, and of her heart!

The match would have been to their mutual advantage. He was the very man to coax her out of her savage moods; his optimism would have taught her to view events in a more positive light. In return, she would have encouraged him to think more and to live up to his potential; she would not have let him hide behind the façade of the spoilt son. They would have gone on challenging each other, not in a mean-spirited fashion; theirs was the kind of challenge which would have brought out the best in them. But she could only hope that he would not live to regret his choice- and that Susan would not suffer from it!

"I shall conquer this! When the time comes, I can work again. I shall be a faithful correspondent to all the dear friends I have made; I shall write to Mrs. Traumayn, to Susan and Georgiana- and even to Kitty, who has expressed such a wish. I might grieve for a while- but things are still different. I can rejoice in the friends that I have- for while I might have felt lonely in the past, I know that I shall never be _truly_ alone anymore."

These thoughts sustained her; but she was growing impatient. She was to go with the Bingleys; but the date of their departure had not yet been fixed. Meanwhile, Mr. Jefferies kept on courting her, to her amazement. Indeed, there was such an abundance of encouragements on Mrs. Bennet's side as to render irrelevant their absence on Mary's. In despair, she had forsaken all pretence of politeness; she had been cold to the point of rudeness. Alas! Mr. Jeffereys was all about maidenly modesty.

At some point she had even toyed with the idea of going back to her drab dresses; but in all likelihood, Mr. Jeffereys would not have been deterred; for there was prudence, and there was avarice. Mr. Jeffereys was leaning on the latter.

As Mary did not want his approval, she was wearing one of her most becoming dress when she came home from an early morning visit to Netherfield; she stopped as she reached the living room. The indistinct sound of voices made her wait a few instants. Her mother was entertaining a visitor; she feared that it might be the omnipresent Mr. Jeffereys. Her courage won out in the end; she entered the room quite prepared to stare him down; but at the unexpected sight that welcomed her, she stood motionless and robbed of the power of speech.

* * *

-_as usual, reviews are always very welcome! I know this chapter was a bit on the short side, but I intend to make up for it later ^^_


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